


Dripping Gold

by Lobb



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Breastfeeding, Breeding, Creampie, Cuckquean, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Incest, Intrigue, Jaune really likes his girls aggressive tops, Multi, Pregnancy Kink, Public Sex, Roughness, Ryona, Slavery, Tantric Sex, Voyeurism, allusions to rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 09:18:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobb/pseuds/Lobb
Summary: One should be mindful of the Gods, Goddesses in particular.  When one is a slave in the Pharaoh's palace, one must be even more careful of the fair-skinned Queen of the Nile.  Especially when one is fated to die.  [Egyptian Mythology Fantasy, Porn with Plot]





	1. Prophecy

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: In accordance with the theme, the character’s names will get messed with a bit, if that bothers you, probably do not read this. It should be fairly obvious whom is whom, though. On an additional note, obviously most of this won’t wholly mesh with real-world Egyptian mythology, so don’t mind it.
> 
> Disclaimer: No, I don’t own RWBY. Or much of anything, really-- Technically this idea isn’t even mine, I just adapted it.

Dripping Gold

A RWBY Lewd Fic

Prologue  
Prophecy

Once upon a time, he had been the son of a soldier. The only son of a herd of daughters, he’d worshipped the ground his father had stood on. He’d longed to be a warrior as well, training with the sword and the spear from youth. Though his father had praised him, he had always known he was not as gifted in the ways of war as he was in others.

He had gone south, to Mycenae after learning Greek from a trader, against the whims of his parents and sisters. The glory of the day for a warrior was to be earned there, where guilds of heroes and warriors were free. The predecessors of such great giants as Hercules, Atalanta, Perseus, and Jason roaming the fields of the day and earning their fortune either by slaying men or beasts.

Mycenae was a land rife with the interference of their Gods. A case proven within a month of his arrival, when he had received what many called an oracle. His fate was grim, she had said: “In chains of gold, and with a noose of silk, your life will be forfeit to foreign gods. Though you may struggle, only the kiss of a snake will free you- as your life's blood turns black. Only when taken by Death will you be hailed as worthy. The fruit of life will grow from your corpse.”

To say that he had been weary of that warning would not have done it justice. The interpretations of those words could have only meant one thing. Disaster would come his way. The only positive piece of the prophecy was that of the snake- a creature that had represented rebirth since time immemorial. The reference to the fruit of life, the fabled ambrosia that had allowed the first of men to be gifted with immortality- to become the first of the Gods.

Was it truly his pain to bring it back into the world?

Against better sense, he had been brave. He had come to Mycenae in order to become a warrior, a hero- and so he had raised his sword and shield against an invasion during the call to arms.

Never had he expected to be captured. Sacrificed by his Mycenean commander alongside so many other “worthy men”. The battle had been a victory for Mycenea--

\-- but Jaune had been taken aboard an invading ship alongside dozens of other men whom had come from the guilds of Mycenae. Across the Aegean they’d sailed to be ransomed or sold as was accorded in order to make up for the losses of the invaders. Stripped of dignity, of pride, of worth--

\-- he had been lucky. He had not languished long within the foreign men’s auctions. Their very first stop had been to the south, in Egypt. His memory of that day was hazy, but he could almost relive it in a breath.

It had been the first time he’d laid eyes upon one of the royal family.

+x+x+x+

Tiny biscuits of tack and barely enough water to survive was a sign of how little they expected to make their war expenditure back. The morning he had left the safety of the guild’s sleeping hall, he had been hale and hearty enough to swing his sword hundreds of times without much effort. Now, he clung to life like a leech, his hair had grown long and shaggy, even though he had always been too puerile to ever have grown a beard like his father had.

Jaune would not break. Misery was bearable, the betrayal had not been. He had always considered himself a kind soul, but- if he ever got his hands upon the throat of the men whom had marched them willingly into a death trap- he would throttle them until their eyes popped.

A hush had fallen over the camp, only the scrambling of the men with their curved swords and their tall head-dresses telling why. From within the cage he shared with three other men- not ones he knew, as two were Easterners who spoke not a lick of Gaelish or Greek, while the last was a man of the invader’s own tribes- he spied an entourage of dusken-skinned men escorting a fair-skinned woman.

That was the first time he laid eyes upon Egypt’s General, a woman whose name in the Coptic language meant “Unstained White”, though it did not translate well into Greek or Gaelish, where it made more sense as “Winter”.

If he had been more hale, more sensible, he might have thought her beautiful. Instead, she had looked like a mirage at the time. His flagging health speaking to the pristine silver of her hair, the soft white of her skin shaded under a paper pagoda carried by her retainers, the lake blue eyes that dismissed men without a thought.

One of her retainers had begun speaking in the Coptic language to their captors, while the woman herself had begun to pace the camp’s cages. Whether her disgust lay with their conditions, or the slaves themselves, he would never know, but it had seemed she had been dissatisfied thoroughly.

And then her eyes had settled upon him, and a fine silver brow had rose up against the gilt head-dress that was adorned with soft and tender jewels of blue that matched with the rich blue that dusted her eyelids and the kohl that lined the sharpness of her eyes. He had, against countless warnings and beatings by their captors, looked up and met her eyes. Her lips had curled, and she spoke in Greek-

“Do you know what I speak?”

His eyes had closed, and he acknowledged her with a nod. He had been so weak, so tired. His throat had been so dry. “What was your purpose?” Her words had been odd, his bloodshot blue eyes had opened again and he’d gazed at her for a moment.

She’d simply stared at him. As if she could amuse herself with his status all day. “Soldier-” He had paused, before coughing out, “Ma’am.” It had been a term of respect, one that didn’t translate directly, but his mother had raised a man to be kind to women. He had his pride.

“Can you read.”

He’d nodded again. And, against his better judgment, he said more. “Greek, Gaelish. Can tend animals, as well.” In this time, it was not so rare to speak different languages if one was sensible. Coptic had been the one language that there’d been no way for him to learn, since they tended to hate the Greeks and the remainder of the fair-skinned races.

He wasn’t sure what had happened after that, as she’d turned away and the retainer had broken back into Coptic. His gaze had returned unto his elongated and dirty nails in his lap, and he’d almost dozed off when a pair of arms had dragged him from the cage.

That was the day he was tithed to the royal family of Egypt. The Assyrian men were killed that night, though he would not learn of that until much later.

+x+x+x+

Contrary to the squalor he had expected, when he had arrived at the palace after trudging along behind the general’s retinue for what felt like days, a guard had broken off with him in tow upon her orders. He’d been brought into a room with a basin sculpted in sand bricks and what seemed to be a well of some breed. The guard had hollered something in the Coptic language, and a shuffling had arisen from a room beyond the moist heat of the bath.

Forth from a curtain of soft linens had come a redheaded woman whom had stolen away his breath. Which was not difficult, considering he was exhausted and had been barely fed in weeks. If the General had been a sight of beauty, the woman- obviously Greek from her features- was a lungful of fresh air to him.

Even if he’d had the air to speak, he didn’t think he would have been able to say anything of substance. The guard spoke further in Coptic, with the woman responding in a lilting and mature voice in turn before turning deep green eyes upon him.

A smile washed across her face, and- as the guard left- he found himself slumping down onto his knees. Unconsciousness claiming him like a fond friend.

He dreamed of a world filled with inky black, only the glimmer of silver coins giving him any comfort. A voice, gentle and filled with life, chastening him. “You’re gonna do great.” A young woman’s voice filtered through his ears. The soft pads of fingers trailed across his brow and temples as he saw the darkness recede, and a pallid face framed by red and black bangs burned into his memory before he awoke again.

The sensation of a wet cloth wiping across his features was what finally awoke him. His senses returning to awareness one at a time until he realized he heard humming. A lilting, gentle voice that reminded him of his mother. As his eyes blearily regarded the world around him, he realized that his body was warm and he was thoroughly naked. An arm held him softly against a soft mass while a rough cloth was used on his dirtied features. He did not have the strength to struggle, even if he had wanted to.

So he had accepted the comfort for what little it could be. The face of the woman that slipped itself in front of his vision lovely in it’s nobility. Her features were firmly angular, with the most telling facial feature being the sharp green eyes with green decorating the lids and the kohl enhancing the sharpness of the lines, then the puffy and kissable lips that pouted outwards even before she spoke.

“Hello again.” She noted, Greek coming from her throat with the ease of a mother tongue. “You must have been exhausted.”

He coughed instead of replying, his throat still so dry. The soft flesh he rested against moved and he felt the flexing of muscles equally as large as his own as a wooden cup was gently pressed against his lips. “Drink.” Her voice, melodic and pleasant, lulled him into obeying immediately. The crispness of the water was like Nectar in comparison with the salt that had come along with what little rations they’d gotten with the tack.

Despite himself, he moaned as she took the cup away from his lips. If he had the ability to feel shame at that moment, he might have flushed. Instead, he smacked his lips and seemed to finally gain awareness of himself beyond the fuzz in his head.

He was shoulder deep in water, the bathing basin that he’d seen just before his exhaustion had finally claimed him. The softness he felt her own body as she cradled him-

A nude woman, cradling him. Shame returned, and the awareness of what that softness that she cradled him to was gave him a physical reaction that he would never be able to deny.

He tried to sit up, to move away, but her arm against him was heavy and strong. If she was ashamed or shy of how they were, she did not show it. “Stay, you’re not clean yet.” Against his sense of propriety, he conceded defeat. Now that he sat under his own power, her arm came away and she used the cloth to clean his shoulders while her newly freed arm tamed the tangles and mess of his long and shaggy blonde hair.

“Who are you?” He asked, feeling a strength renewed now that he had water- Blessed water- in him once again rather than just salt-water rationed to keep him weak. “Where am I?”

Green eyes twinkled with amusement as his own blue settled on her face. The curtain of beautiful bloody red that made up her hair fanned out across her lightly tanned flesh. “I am Pyrrha. And you are in the Palace, in Egypt.”

The great empire of Egypt, huh . . .

His musing was cut off by the wet cloth guiding over his face and making him sputter. A playful, gentle look on Pyrrha’s features as his attention went onto her again. Though he struggled to keep his gaze honest when he realized that they were, in fact, nude and in a bath together.

It was most of what he could do to -not- look. Flashes of rose nipples caught his attention, and drew him in more than he would care to admit. Despite being caught every time, Pyrrha seemed to not care. “I’m sorry.” He finally uttered out, as she set the cloth aside and instead retrieved the wooden cup to finish the water within. For all he said that, he felt he must not have been sorry enough since he was still basically in her lap and leaned up against her. If he had to, he would blame the lack of food in his stomach and the harsh day out in the sun.

“Don’t be silly.” The redhead let out a soft little laugh, “What should you apologize for? It’s only how a man works to be distracted by a woman. If anything, it’s flattering.” A hand, calloused and rife with scars he noticed, came up to brush painted fingers across one of his cheeks and he felt himself squirm and yet relax into the gesture of affection. “You are cute. That makes you lucky. Most Amazons wouldn’t do something like this for you.”

Jaune almost barked out a laugh. As his brain caught up with him, he admitted that he could see it. She was large, and well-built, nearly his height, and- now that he studied her more thoroughly (without being distracted by her breasts . . . mostly)- rife with muscles that would not have been out of place on a seasoned veteran.

He wouldn’t consider himself lucky, though. Pyrrha didn’t know him that well, yet.

“I am Jaune. Short, sweet, women love it.” He offered a hand with a smile, and her fingers clasped his wrist while he did the same for her in turn.

“Well, Jaune, let us see if we cannot find food and clothes for you, then we will have to start our work for the evening.”

Right then, food sounded just grand.

+x+x+x+

His first encounter with the Palace’s guardians was that very night. Though he didn’t know it at the time. A group of cats in various shades and colors trotted their pleasant way through a corridor as he obeyed Pyrrha’s directions on bringing clean linens to the Royal Servant’s quarters for use in the Palace’s rooms. At their head, a pair of starkly fluffy black-furred cats that almost seemed to pause as he stepped cleanly out of the way of the herd.

Jaune had always liked animals. The fact that the Palace was rife with cats did not particularly bother him, save for the task of clearing the sandpits where they were . . . prone to doing their business.

The smaller of the two continued to trot along after a moment, while the larger one settled into step with him. Humming a pleasant tune, Jaune took no notice as he went about his day.

Slavery was cruel and disturbing, but his life in the palace was acceptable. As long as he made no mistakes, he was even prone to Pyrrha’s kindness. A few lashings had been the worst he’d had it so far- and Jaune considered himself wise enough to work hard in order to not have to deal with worse.

Pain was something he could get over. Being sent to build a new monument until he died? Not so much. Pyrrha’s lessons in Coptic weren’t that bad, either.

With his new feline companion, he settled the wicker basket filled with linens into the cubby for the royal servants, and turned- only to spy a pair of glimmering amber eyes staring as if into his soul.

The fluffy black cat had climbed atop an outcrop and now looked him straight in the face. A soft, pleasant little “Mrowl~?” coming from its throat.

Despite himself, he smiled. A hand was raised, slowly, and he paused a foot or so away from the creature’s chin in order to allow awareness of his intent. For a moment, amber eyes narrowed and it looked for all the world he might be bitten--

\-- but then the cat’s chin perked and he begin to scratch it gently. “You are so beautiful.” He remarked, pleasure in his voice as he luxuriated in the soft fur under the feline’s mouth. “Are you not the most beautiful girl in all the palace?” He couldn’t help but grin and tease while the creature purred and- as if agreeing- nodded.

“Thank you.” He gently brushed a feline ear before he moved past the midnight puffball and made to continue his journey towards the bath he would need to clean next.

Not taking the time to notice the glimmering pair of eyes that followed his back with interest.

+x+x+x+

Life settled into a routine for a short while. Until he learned Coptic, he was kept away from the other servants and denizens of the Palace in favor of staying in the same small room as Pyrrha, though he did not get to spend as much time with the Amazon as he might have otherwise liked.

Pyrrha was a lovely woman- both in physical looks and in personality. She reminded him of a sister--

\-- a very attractive sister who liked to parade around nearly, or fully, nude. His interest in her always earned him a playful, if indulgent, look.

Alongside the redheaded woman, the small legion of cats of the Palace often followed him around at the behest of the larger black long-furred cat, only encouraged when he would inevitably share strips of food with them that he probably should have saved for himself.

The look of the other servants always confused him when he went about his day while they followed him. He had presumed for the longest time that it had been because of his foreign features, but then it had seemed as if there was only nervous gazes sent to him when the black cat was behind him or at his side.

One day, his curiosity had gotten the better of him during one of Pyrrha’s little tutoring sessions on Coptic, and he’d asked her. “The cats following me, it makes the other servants nervous, why?”

The redhead had given him a queer look, “Does one of them have long fur the color of the night, and eyes like gold?”

When he’d nodded in turn, the redhead had stiffened. “Cats are sacred to the Egyptians.” She’d explained, the woman who was normally filled with confidence and even a bit of fondness looking more than nervous.

He had let the conversation die there, thinking he understood. His Coptic was almost good enough to have a light conversation, but it was still a language he couldn’t innately respond in. Pyrrha had sat quietly by the side of his mat as he fell asleep that night, soothing long nails through his hair as he fell asleep.

That night, he had the dream again. The silver-eyed woman with her black hair as if it was dipped in blood at the tips soothing him with kisses and murmuring kindly to him. It was a dream he had very often, feeling weak and unable to respond to her as if he slept like the dead.

Always, she whispered platitudes and endearments, until he would awake. The dreams would fade into the back of his mind. Strangely, those mornings he always felt so great, so strong.

+x+x+x+

The first time his eyes laid upon the Pharaoh had been across the gardens as he fed water into the sluice that allowed the desert flowers to bloom within the palace’s walls. The fair skinned woman with her silver hair just like that of the General of Egypt, though she was not so grown as the one he dubbed Winter. The only further difference between them a scar that decorated her face like a cry of war, a sign that she had been on the wrong end of a blade at some point. The head dress and diaphanous gown accented with metaphorically countless pieces of jewelry as a cadre of advisors walked at her side.

For a moment, he swore that her eyes had touched upon his own, but he had dismissed it as an illusion and he had continued his business. The heat of the day had made his breath short, his heart race. Surely, that was all there was to it.

He was just a slave. Not worth the notice of even the kind Pyrrha, let alone the beautiful General or the Pharaoh.

That night, as he sat down with Pyrrha in front of the bronze mirror that they shared, the green-eyed woman teaching him still- with heavy effort- to apply kohl to his eyes and then the make-up that showed the status of servants in the palace, a guard came and even though he only barely understood parts of the discussion, he knew it had been about him.

The redheaded woman had looked uncomfortable for the rest of the night, and she’d refused to tell him why. Only smiling that friendly, but false, smile that told him she would never do anything that would upset others if it could be helped.

Things changed that night. While normally Pyrrha was not shy about her habit of nudity, she made it clear as she let her linen gown slip from her form, she put herself fully on display for him, and even went the distance of pushing him down upon his mat and beginning to whisper to him in Greek.

Jaune lost his virginity that night, under the molten gaze of two sets of amber eyes.

+x+x+x+

Green eyes mesmerized him as he wound up under her. While he’d been fed and had grown back somewhat to the strength he’d been able to bring to the fields of battle, Pyrrha was- to his mixed shame and arousal- still much stronger than him.

Privately, he wondered what her true nature was amidst the halls of the palace, but that thought fled his brain just as fast as the rest of them did when her hands began to tickle across his chest and took a firm grasp of his nipples. The sensitive buds standing out prominently against her thumbs and forefingers as she gave both tugs that made him squirm and grunt in a mixture of delight and sensitive pangs.

Pyrrha was beautiful, there was no denying that. And she’d been someone whom had given him countless amounts of support and affection since he’d been all but apprenticed to her. No one else had guided him, or protected him if he understood what was going on, the way she had.

If he had met her in Mycenae and they had not been on opposing sides, he liked to think that she would have been a woman he would have loved to take as a bride. The high price and terror of being the husband of an Amazon was not remotely a fright to him--

\--or it hadn’t been, until this moment. She was rough, which was not what he expected of a woman in the marital bed. Her nails left red lines on his abdomen and the lack of protection between the two of them alerted him to the fact that her position atop him held no defense from the way his member tickled against the cusp of her sex and rump.

Fingers that seemed just as able to mold and break him as if he were paper tickled across his cheeks, and the look on her face was one of deep and unabiding want. This would not be a session of making love like poets described it. She was going to bruise him.

Part of him was fine with that, the rest, though?

“Pyrrha-” His lips were silenced as quickly as they were opened. Her own rouge-painted lips claimed his, and a tongue snaked its way into his mouth to lay claim. The ticklish sparks of his spine made him quake from his eyes down to his thighs, his hands grasping for her. Unsure of himself, of the things going on between them.

Her eyes closed, even while his remained wide open. His hands got hold of her hips and then wound their way up her sides- over powerful abdominal muscles- before they grasped breasts that were plump and full. A ragged gasp came from the redhead’s throat, vented into his own mouth while her tongue fought a battle for the ages against his own, one he was losing handily.

It seemed like minutes passed, until finally she broke away from the kiss and a sure hand reached back, grasping his size and guiding him with no preamble. A shift of the hips, and he knew his first taste of a woman.

Sweet, succulent heat enveloping him and leaving him brain-dead for a moment as the world seemed to stop making sense. The trusted woman sparing no time for adjustment as what seemed like a frenzy took control over her.

Her hips lifted and fell upon him again with a shuddering force. The loud clap of her rump indenting against his thighs telling the quiet world around them just how fiercely she rode atop him like a horse being broken in.

Jaune worried that she might break him before she wrung him dry. His fingers squished into the softness of her breasts and Pyrrha’s delighted mewl told him that- if nothing else- she was so rough because that was what she preferred.

The kind, sisterly Amazon did not want gentle. Lovemaking was not what she had in mind. Instinct took him into sway as he tried to lessen the impact of each time she crushed him under her thighs and hips by thrusting up into her in turn. His name spilled from her lips, and her hands held his jawline as she took what she wanted from him.

Such abuse he could not take. Shortly after he began to reciprocate her violence, he lost the battle with his will, as tensing muscles suddenly relaxed without his say so and his seed emptied into her in a deluge.

Even as his body demanded pause, Pyrrha only let out a disappointed growl. His rubbery length being used further to temper her heat by her own motions. Beautiful agony filled Jaune’s head as his cock was squished and treated to the powerful muscles that had wrung his defeat free from him.

A hand went away from his face in order to appease herself, calloused fingers trilling the pearl of her pleasure as his eyes, lidded with ache and exhaustion, watched the redhead bring herself to completion atop him.

Despite himself, he felt weak for not even being able to offer her that pleasure. Like he was not good enough- and the truth was simply that he hadn’t been.

A foreign power filled him, wiping away the hurt and weariness as she clamped down around him with a cry that sounded out victory.

“By glory, unbound even in death, I protect and uplift thee-” Pyrrha’s words were husky and unfocused, even as she began to slam down into him again. The wet, disgusting noises of their rut filling the small room set aside only for the two of them, “- Charged with the cry for victory, I shoulder your burden and aid you in immortality.”

Those words changed everything. The burning new sensation within him did not let him tire. The night became restless as Pyrrha took from him again and again. Every time he swore he would fade into senselessness, the Amazon roused him again with some new technique, until he had begun to learn how best to offer her pleasure in return.

It was a trial by fire in which Jaune could not afford to lose.

Even if he did not know at the time that the consequence of failure was to have his destiny cut short.


	2. The Silken Noose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out just who Blake, Kali, Ruby, and Yang have become in this universe. Also, intrigue?! No smut, though. That's for next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Why’ve you all gotta pick on the poor ellipsis? WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU? NOTHING, THAT’S WHAT. It’s called a narrative pause!

Dripping Gold

Chapter One  
A Silken Noose

Despite his surety, he woke up that morning without feeling sore and weakened. In fact, in a way, he felt better than he ever had before. As if the world around him was more clear, more vibrant. Nothing felt muted, and his body was responding to such a quick degree that- for a moment- he almost sprang fully out of bed before he noticed the most pertinent fact of the night.

Pyrrha was still atop him, her arms wrapped around him protectively. Gently, his hand came around and his palm rubbed circles into the back of the redheaded woman to rouse her. “Pyrrha. Pyrrha. Wake up.”

The sleepy little mumbles that came from her were endearing, though as much as he would have loved to luxuriate in the bed together, they had tasks to do. A few moments of sleepy intimacy would quite soon see them getting lashed or worse.

The first shake was all it took to finally rouse her to wakefulness. Drunk looking green eyes blearily opening to regard him before she slowly sat up, looking panicked. Not knowing what to do, he settled his hands on her cheeks and murmured softly, “It’s okay. But we need to get up and ready, we have things to do.”

As awkward as it was, at least they could do their duty today. They were both more aware of one another as they bathed and groomed themselves than they had been before. His eyes were drawn to the curve of her breast and hips, unable to help himself as his body responded. Nor could he help but notice the way her eyes drifted over his body and her cheeks flushed, more like a maiden than he was used to her acting.

He completely forgot about the chant she had performed, or the way it had made him feel, by the time he’d walked back out into the palace proper and into his first task for the day.

+x+x+x+

Strangely, his work for the day was altered. Normally, on what would have been called Tuesday, he would be in charge of cleaning the Palace stables, but he found himself once again in the gardens, where he spied the two fluffy black cats that seemed to be lounging around under the sun with hardly a care in the world.

An animal’s life was lovely. To know the pleasure of the sun on one’s skin and to not fret. “Hello, sweet girls.” He greeted the two as he knelt down next to them on their gilt podium, a wicker basket filled with ashes for fertilizing the flowers and plants of the garden. Two pairs of alluring amber eyes opened pleasantly, with the larger of the two Queens sinuously contorting itself up unto her feet and greeting him in turn.

“Mrrrr~owwwll~” An upraised chin indicated her desire, and he used the elongated nails of his fingers to scritch gently under her chin, earning him a further purr.

“So kind to me.” Jaune mused, happy to be adored for the simple pleasure he could offer the creature. The swishing tail of the untouched cat alerting him to her own impatience. “Would you like me to pet you too, my Queen?” He asked, a little cheeky with the usage of the term for a female cat. A front claw was raised and he shifted his attention from the larger of the two unto the breast of the smaller, raking his nails through long and smooth fur. “Enjoy the blessing of the sun. I must do my work.”

Standing, he hefted the basket of ash and began to patrol the garden’s grounds, dusting it lightly with the ash and filling the air with the scent. The curtain of blonde hair upon his head protecting him from the worst of the sun’s rays.

He did not notice the way the larger cat’s eyes followed him with every step, while the smaller of the two pleasantly purred and engaged in a conversation few could know.

The morning turned into afternoon as he did his work in the gardens, noting the arrival of a face that held interest for him. The Pharaoh shaded by a reed pagoda as she arrived with a pair of guards in the wings of the corridor that led back into the Palace proper.

Once again, he felt a rake of nails up his back, as if she looked not at the beauty of the garden around, but only at him. Again, he dismissed it as he clipped the latest of the place’s bounty and gathered it together in the basket once loaded with ash but now firmly cleaned. Flowers and parts of the plants that would be used for oils and incenses, used both to decorate one’s self and as appeasements to the Egyptian’s gods.

Pleased with himself for his hard work, he began to heft the basket--

\--”You walk with Death.” The words were soft, the voice regal and irrefutably musical. That they were in Greek once again surprised him. His gaze moved up, realizing in his process that he had grown closer to the place where the Pharaoh was seated. Now, he could not deny the way those eyes- blue as the sky on a clear day- settled on him expectantly.

His head bowed, there was no one else whom she could have spoken to in Greek. Did he dare respond-? He must, mustn’t he? He had no choice. “All men do, Great Pharaoh.” He tried to gather his thoughts- if only so he didn’t bite his own tongue out.

A dismissive scoff came from her throat, “All mortal men.” He was more comfortable with such an attitude. At least then it didn’t feel like something was happening around him. “My sister must have pitied you.”

Wow, what was it, Pick On Jaune Day?

Despite himself, he simply bowed his head lower and let his gaze drift from under his bangs, noting the swishing tails and hardline stares of the two cats still lounging under the rays of the sun. “Go.” The dismissal was heeded with a quickness--

“We will see if your life is worth keeping tonight.”

Jaune had never moved so fast in his life.

x+x+x+x

After dropping the basket filled with the harvest of the Gardens off with the Palace attendants, he returned to his and Pyrrha’s little hideaway, hoping to find the red-headed Amazon there. Sadly, his luck did not hold out. He was alone. She must still be doing her work for the day. He fretted, but nonetheless shook himself free from the case of nerves that had struck him since the Pharaoh’s attention had been upon him. A bath. A hot bath will help.

Shedding his shendyt, he began to fill the basin with water from the sun-caked well. Rationing out enough for the bath, he washed himself clean with a bucket before he stepped towards the bath.

“Mr~onn~?” His attention was claimed by the figure in the doorway to their “quarters”. The larger of the two long-haired cats settled there, whipping her tail this way and that as she padded her way towards the sandstone bricks of the basin. Laughing softly, he crouched down to greet the Queen.

“Well, hello again. Did you grow tired of the Garden?” As the cat leapt up unto the rim of the bath, his snicker returned and he settled into the water of the bath. The hot water helping to soothe his ache as he leaned against the brick that was next to the one the cat languished on. “You left your child there?” His eyes drifted closed.

“Mother-rrr, actually.” He paused.

Slowly, his eyes opened, and he looked incredulously about. Eyes ghosting past the amber gaze of the cat. “What- who--?”

“Silly human. There is only you and I in here.” Startling, his gaze settled upon the furred features of the creature upon the bath. A smarmy look decorating his “companion’s” cute face.

I must be dying from heat-stroke. He thought, surely the cat hadn’t spoken?

“Do not look so incredulous.” A chin he had scratched so many times parted, affecting the impression of speech with each word that lilted in the open air with a voice that rolled with an inner fire. “You know this world is more than it seems. Why would you be surprised by this?”

Before his eyes, the black furred form began to stretch and elongate. Fur receding and shifting in shape until along the bricks of the basin’s rim laid a nude woman of fair features and black hair long enough to almost serve as a curtain of fluffy black silk. A pair of cat ears were balanced only by the display of gold jewelry and a myriad of tattoos running across her flesh, the iconography all symbols of the Egyptian religion. Those same smug amber eyes regarded him with a look that could only belong to the same creature that had spent so long trailing him and demanding his attention.

“I-” Struck dumb, his jaw flapped time and time again as he tried to get words out. Eventually, a set of painted nails trilled against his chin and closed his mouth with an amused light in those eyes.

“Considering you have seen that red-headed woman so, I would think a naked woman wouldn’t affect you.” She shifted onto her back on the bricks, the sun raking across every inch of her nude flesh. Against his judgment, his eyes roved the swell of her breasts and across a taut stomach before noticing a soft little patch of wiry black at the juncture of her thighs.

He swallowed thickly past a wave of saliva. For all her words, he still was not “used” to nudity. Especially when it was so brazenly put on display for him. To say that there was danger in standing up from his seat within the bath would be an understatement, as his blue eyes trailed up from her hips past the tattoo of an Ankh that lay between her breasts and then up to her face again.

Unsure of himself, he did the best thing he could think of. “I’m Jaune- what’s . . . what’s your name?”

The woman rolled over onto her front, tempting him with a view of a different kind. He would hate to admit it, but the dark-haired woman was . . . well- she was exquisite. The pert pillows of her rump were the kind of thing that drew the eye and made them -stay-. It took an effort of supreme will to gaze at her face again. Just to catch her giving an amused look. She was not shy, to be sure- though he got the feeling that she was teasing him more than anything else.

“Memphis. Daughter of Bastet.” His brows knit. Bastet? The Cat Goddess? He vaguely remembered the laundry list of things she was Goddess of. His mouth opened, and a finger pressed against his lips before he could speak. “You don’t have time to ask so many questions, human. We have a breath of the sun before your Amazon returns, and you have until the sun is brought back down beyond the horizon until the child of Osiris calls you in order to prove your failure.”

Well, he didn’t know specifically what she was referring to, but he at least could figure out what she was -alluding- to. Pyrrha’s actions the night before were starting to line up. Though, why it was the Pharaoh didn’t like him, he couldn’t even say.

Her hand settled onto his chest, bringing him back from his musing. His bemused gaze going from her painted nails up unto her wry features. “I like you, human. And my mother likes you as well. If you will dedicate yourself to us, we will protect you from the child of Osiris.”

His features knit into a frown. Dedicate himself? To her and her mother? What would such a thing even mean? His features must have brought further amusement to her, as the hand that rest against his muscled form steadily drifted low and brought a gasp from him.

“It would be wonderful for you. We are the Guardians of Egypt, after all.”

His hips bucked into her hand, and he struggled against the heat of his body- standing out against the cooling water of the bath. His eyes were drawn to those gold orbs once again as she teased and tormented him the way a cat would play with it’s food.

Gods were fickle creatures, from what he’d learned. And the interest in him now could fade like a whisper in the wind. But--

\-- he was still Jaune, from the lands of the Gaels. He opened his mouth to deny her, and yet found himself shivering as a sudden chill settled over his body. The hand that had been firmly wrapped around him paused in it’s toying, and- rather than look at the woman handling him- he felt a strange desire to turn his head towards the shade of the room.

There, in one of the shadowed corners, twin glimmering lights of silver narrowed at the two of them, a soft voice that seemed so very familiar crooned, “If you want to bed him, you can take that rite with your Mom. But he is mine, little guardian.” Memphis hissed in turn at the voice, coiling back up into a position akin to a cat about to pounce.

He just felt glad that he was no longer being so sorely tempted- though of course that chill had not yet left. Those gouts of silver light turned in his direction, and warmth flooded him in turn. For a moment, he could imagine a face with a doe-eyed smile before the world seemed almost to right itself and instead of a beautiful naked woman making hands of him, there was only the furred cat slinking away with an upturned tail and no glimmering eyes filled with Death looking upon them both.

He sank into the bath with a sigh of relief, and- for the moment- forgot the worries of everything else.

+x+x+x+

The whispering blackness was a place that only she and- when his soul was freed from it’s newest vessel- her brother-in-law could stay within for a lengthy time. Though it was a risk to afford Anpu control over Duat for longer than necessary, she knew as her senses returned that she was not alone.

“Hey, little sis!” An annoyed groan came from her throat as her head was gathered up against a plush chest only hidden by waves of gold- both of hair and of jewelry. She pushed at her older sister’s body, grumbling darkly as it failed miserably and she wound up half-hanging from the blonde woman’s armpit. Cheeky lavender eyes admiring the image floating in the bronzed mirror.

“Oh-ho? Who’s the cutie?” Struggling valiantly against the oppression of the larger woman’s bust and arm, she finally freed herself in an almost serpentine manner.

“Why do you want to know, Isis?” No, she was not pouting. Goddesses do not pout.

“Well, if it’s some mortal interesting enough for you, then surely I- wait-” Isis narrowed her eyes, and she began to sweat. One could not think a Goddess in the Land of the Dead could sweat, but she knew she was.

“Oh-ho-ho-ho, I see what you’re doing here, sis!” Her own sweating increased, alongside her nervousness. Wringing her fingers in her gown of black and red, she was nearly ready to hiss just like that accursed demi-goddess had not too long ago. “Stalking is kind of creepy, don’t you think?”

She paused, a very dead set of silver eyes settling upon the outrageously ill-garbed figure of the Goddess of Magic. “This, coming from the girl who forced her first boyfriend’s soul to wander from rebirth to rebirth for all eternity?”

She felt no victory in seeing her sister wince. None. She did not privately cheer.

“Nephy, that’s not fair.” The blonde Goddess remarked, pouting. Goddesses do not pout! “I thought it was serious at the time. Besides, Dad was being -super- overprotective. Seriously, he had no chill. He’s a real hothead. Eh? Eh!?”

Nephthys, the Goddess of the Night, sighed. “Isis, please go away. I’m trying to watch a guy be naked.”


	3. Pity the Simple Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More foreshadowing, also some good old fashioned pussy-eating.

**Dripping Gold**

**Chapter Two**

**Pity the Simple Soul**

  
  


When Pyrrha had returned, shedding a larger gown and with a worried look on her face, Jaune had been reapplying the powders and cosmetics she’d taught him to wear as a matter of importance. She’d paused him with strong hands on his shoulders, and he’d turned to face her. Those glimmering emerald eyes of her’s studied his face and then she’d softly embraced him. Confused, he’d laid a hand upon her back and patted it gently as her shoulders had started to shake. “Pyrrha, is- are you alright?”

“No.” She admitted, even as her breathing evened out and she stood up to her full height again. His hand fell from her back, yet gently he took her’s, leading her to offer a small smile. “You’ll be okay, I think.”

His feelings were a muddled mess. He had only assumptions to make on the nature of what the Pharaoh would demand of him, and now it was obvious that Pyrrha was worried for him. This strong and fast dynamic of their relationship only made him more wary.

The heat in his gut did not help. “I will be.” He assured her, “Like the snake sheds its skin, and the sun rises, I’ll see you soon.”

It was a saying in Greek that didn’t translate wholly, but it was one he knew how to use. They settled back down into another lesson in Coptic, with Jaune becoming more and more proficient as they practiced. Pyrrha lauded him as learning the language exceptionally fast, which he could only flush at with a smile.

Pyrrha was truly great. He had a feeling that if she had not been around, he would have floundered and likely suffered terribly for it. That she was beautiful and strong were secondary to her kindness. Kindness he hoped he could repay someday.

As the sun began to set, a royal guard arrived. His adornments jangling softly as he spoke brusquely in Coptic, gesturing at him. “You. Come. Pharaoh demands your presence.”

Jaune closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he stood, offering Pyrrha a smile he didn’t feel in his heart as he followed the man.

+x+x+x+

  
  


He had not yet been privy to the Throne Room or the Royal Chambers beyond. Not even the harem, which he was amused to find empty, seemed to see many of the Palace’s servants save for the small handful of those whom were trusted to attend to the Pharaoh or her sister, the General.

Icons of flails and maces filled the throne room, alongside displays of deific and enshrined figures. Most prominent was the gold and alabaster throne that would have otherwise seated the fair skinned Queen of the Nile. For a moment, he wondered what it was like to hold court- to be seated above others while listening to the praise and the suffering of others.

It made him sick to his stomach. Why, he couldn’t even rightly say.

The royal harem, as he’d recount later, had been empty. Perhaps for the former incarnation of Osiris, it had been full, but the young Pharaoh Hedjret had refused to take even a single concubine- let alone a husband. Of course, he hadn’t focused on such a thing at the time, his nerves had been at an all time high.

It was something he should have known about. Something he should have recognized. The danger, the thread of fate tickling across his nape.

As the guard led him into the Royal Quarters, his eyes closed. Another shaky breath shook his form, and he had to harden himself to push the nerves away. He’d marched happily into combat, and yet now- for some reason- he could not help but feel his deepest nerves and fears? Swords were less frightening than a slight, if beautiful, white-haired woman?

What a coward he was. And sadly, one that was right about something for the very first time in his life.

+x+x+x+

  
  


Her gaze rose, a clawed foot fixing itself from her grooming. A pleased expression greeted her.

“Mother.” Memphis greeted, settling herself forward and unto her hind as Bastet’s cat form padded it’s way closer to push a paw out, smoothing out a cow-lick from her head. A whine rose in her throat, amber eyes narrowing in turn.

“Little guardian, you went to appeal to the human, did you not? Did you learn a lesson?” Black ears twitched atop her mother’s feline head, a smug expression on features that were just as distinct as her own.

“I was interrupted.” She did not pout, only frown. There was no way she would be chastened by her mother- not after the woman had admitted her own pleasure with the man’s presence. The heat inside of him spoke to her instincts, his dark fate inspired the need to protect. It allured them, and she knew if she had successfully seduced him, it would have only been a matter of hours before her mother had taken him to bed as well.

That suited Memphis just fine. As long as that divine heat flooded her first. It was only appropriate of a good daughter.

“Of course you were.” That paw that had smoothed out the fur of her head brushed between her ears, and she tried not to let out a purr of joy- and failed. “After all, his soul is torn in many directions. If he added on another burden, his body would tear itself asunder. It is only because the soul is so powerful that he can be strong.”

Memphis paused, feeling her eyes narrow. “What are you not telling me?”

Her mother’s expression, even in it’s feline form, could only be so smug. She was aware of how kind and generous her mother was most of the time, but it seemed only with her and the consorts did this playful side break out without someone having scorned her.

And no one with an intellect above a bug dared scorn Bastet. “Nothing you will not learn in time. Just know that we cannot save him from his bloody fate. To do so is to deny him what he deserves.” That long, plush tail craned around to whip against her cheek, and Memphis craned back, startled. “And you do not want to do that, do you? After all, you want him. The fire in him delights you. And you have been so lonely- despite my urging for you to find a lover of your own.”

“The child of Osiris will kill him.” Memphis felt her tail ticking this way and that, knowing that she was glowering at even her beloved mother. The sunny blonde had been pleasant to her, had fed and treated her kindly without asking for a thing in return. Always, cats were revered, but to be placed upon that great monument was also to ask for the blind worship of most and the scorn of others.

That he was handsome- in a somewhat youthful way- did not discourage her. While many sought her attentions and were more impressive specimens of divinity and life, she . . . longed for him.

“She will.” Her mother agreed, “But not tonight. She must grow close to him first, before he will join the night.”

Memphis frowned, “What should I do, then?” Nerves made her ears twitch and her claws slide out of their sheaths.

“Whatever you like. That is our wont, is it not?” With those words, her mother began to saunter off with a pleased air. “But, if you want your mother’s advice- take him to bed. I want grandchildren.” Memphis spluttered with rage and indignation as her mother laughed herself sick out of the Temple within the palace’s walls.

  
  


x+x+x+x

  
  


The royal chambers were, in one simple word, elegant. Filled with finery and arranged carefully to minimize the clutter of it all. The most ostentatious piece in the whole of the room was the bed wreathed in pillows and sheets that had to be aired and cleaned daily- sometimes even when the Pharaoh had not slept in them. Or at least, that was what he’d come to understand from discussions he’d caught onto.

All of it, however, paled in comparison to the presence of the person who made his knuckles tense. Gone was the ornate head-dress that he was sure must have weighed at least six pounds, leaving her beautiful deathly white hair to fall in a curtain around slim and sleek shoulders. Gazing deeply into a bronzed mirror, he could only wonder at the preternatural feeling that pervaded the very room itself, draining it of color and filling it with a sense of silence so profound that it seemed as if music all it’s own.

The light of the room felt faded and drained, shadows casting into the corners where the lanterns could not reach. He half expected to see fires of silver burning in them, but saw none.

The only silver fire burning in this room was that of Hedjret. He glanced back to note the royal guard standing in the doorway with his gaze fixed upon the opposing wall. As much privacy as the Pharaoh was probably ever gifted.

It made him pity her. Oddly, that made him relax, his stance settling while he waited for her to either make note of him or for her to grow bored with his presence. It was better than announcing himself and earning her ire.

Minutes passed in the quiet, and- despite his anxiety- he seemed to calm the more it dragged on. Her gaze lifted from the mirror and turned towards him. A narrowing of those blue eyes of her’s, before she gestured at him to arrive, and he obeyed after a few moments. “Brush my hair.”

She did not gesture for the horse-hair brush that sat atop her vanity, but he took it gently and paused long enough to settle in behind her. A life filled with women had taught him well as to their beauty needs, so this was . . . strangely homesick-inspiring. His nails raked through silken strands, and he began to carefully untangle and smooth out layers of silver white. In the periphery of his vision, he could see how her eyes did not close, caught in a constant glare at him.

He just couldn’t figure out why she hated him so. Was it that he was a male? It could have been that way, but for the life of him he just did not know. Rather than dwell on it, he focused on the task. Fingers and brush being used to cautiously return her hair to a pristine state. The gentle oil upon the brush’s bristles making her hair shine in the light.

“I will have you kneel for me.” Her voice came out, partially detached and yet simmering with an emotion that did not fit the harshness of her features. She was an ethereally beautiful woman, in keeping with those who dominated his thoughts here in Egypt. Certainly, the Palace was not rife with them, but . . .

Pyrrha, Memphis, the General-

_ A flash of a cute face, pallid and adorned with hair of inky black with red interspersed- _

_ A memory, of a blonde woman adorned in so little as to be called accessories rather than clothes, looking furiously at him- _

Despite his desire to wince, he simply returned- not even noticing that he had slipped into Coptic and understood her in Coptic- “Shall I kneel for you now, Great Pharaoh?” His hands stopped their work in order to do as asked if she agreed.

Instead, her features reddened with a blush. Eyes widening as she turned in her seat to stare up at him. While he returned her gaze, aware of how his features had schooled themselves into a gentle smile, she slowly recovered until her lips set in a thin line. Her small, demure form appealed to him as she tucked her legs over the arms of her stool and faced him. “Kneel.”

Setting the brush back with reverence, he gently took to his knees. Even on his knees, his head was in line with her chest due to the height difference they held. Seated like she was, she was still small and slight while he was tall and broad. His head lowered so as to be seen as reverent, though he found himself staring at the parts of her thighs that were exposed by the hem of her diaphanous gown.

It occurred to him, then, that the gown was somewhat redundant since it was damn near see-through enough that he saw everything -anyway-. The prize of the wealthiest of Egypt. “That is how you should be.” Her voice came out as if it was a whisper, but to his ears it sounded -so loud.- “Obeying order and right. My sister may have pitied you, but I hold no such compassion for your soul.”

She sure was full of flowery language, wasn’t she? Wait, how had he understood that-

“ _ Pleasure me.” _ A directive, pushed in a songstress’ voice. Her hips pushing to the edge of her stool.

He hesitated for a moment, before his hands gently peeled upwards the skirt of her gown, exposing a soft tuft of white fur above her sex while her legs lifted just enough to allow him to do it. Legs parted, making a wordless demand to further enforce the situation. Pyrrha’s “tutelage” in yet another area was well-vaunted, even though she had been much more forceful in teaching him how to pleasure a woman without his manhood.

This was almost pleasant in comparison, getting to go at his own pace- so long as it didn’t upset Hedjret, anyway. His lips sank against dry pink, his oral muscle tickling across her opening before prying them open slightly enough to wind it along the length of her cleft and end up raking it against the hood of her clit. The soft whimper that came from her throat an encouragement he couldn’t deny.

A taste of her came unto his tongue, then. Pyrrha had been earthy and “fertile”, while Hedjret seemed to taste of what he imagined sweet and tangy fruits to be like. Her nectar began to flow as his tongue obeyed Pyrrha’s instructions that had been beaten into his body with practice and commands.

Spread thighs began to close around his head, cared for nails raked into his blonde hair as another sound crept free from her lips. The languid mewl sounding like music as her fist pushed him further into her flower.

This was more in line with his memories, so he simply did as directed. His tongue thrusting deeper into the Pharaoh’s sex, earning a shaky little giggle as his nose tickled against her pubic hair. The scent of her nectar mingling with perfume that spoke of desert flowers.

He wondered idly if the perfume she’d used had been made of what he had harvested that very day. Even in his meager duties, was he used for this woman’s excess?

That was strangely thrilling a thought. Pleasuring women was, of course, a man’s pride. Jaune was still a man, even if he was not a free one. It brought confidence into his ministrations, and he widened out his tongue as Pyrrha had attested to being enjoyable. The broad paintbrush of his tongue wound against her walls, encouraging another set of little sounds that delighted him.

She was beautiful. Scared of her, he very well was, but he could also feel a deep and burning desire to love her. To hear her pleasured by him was a heady aphrodisiac, and he knew if she looked, she would see that his body was weak for her.

Minutes dragged on until finally both of her fists wound in his locks, and he was squashed to her quim. A rush of her juices leaked against his chin and lips as he suckled upon the exposed pearl that brought her so much delight. The cry that came from her chest as her legs threatened to squish his head was like a siren’s song. The swath of his tongue lightening up onto her lips instead of the oversensitive button that could be pressed to bring forth a squirm from the Most Powerful Woman in Egypt.

It was power at it’s finest, most base level. One could be taught to hate and ignore pain, but to ignore pleasure was something the body couldn’t deny.

A heat burned in his chest, and his hands softly drew from her hips along her thighs, soothing the tensed muscles as the woman of white came down from the high. Her fingers loosened in his hair, and the control she held over him was relinquished long enough for her to begin hunting for her breath instead. He indulged in a few deep breaths of his own while he craned his neck up- ignoring the pop of stressed muscles- to admire her.

Flushed, indignant features greeted him.  _ Wow, she’s hard to please. _ He mused internally. She stood, and he had to school his features lest he laugh as she looked for all the world like she might begin to pout.

“I’m bored of you.” She said, the heat in the words not seeming as intense as they ought to have. Bowing his head again, he hid a smile as she stepped past him and over towards her bed. “Go.”

Well, it was going to be an awkward walk back to their quarters, but Jaune was sure very few would be about to notice his state as he went.


	4. Cat's Paw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake and Kali sexings. Also, PLOT TWISTS. Or not so twists, since most of you have made some good observations.

**Dripping Gold**

**Chapter Three**

**Cat’s Paw**

  
  


The soft sound of his feet touching the floor of the hall was his only company for what seemed to be several minutes. His thoughts drowning out everything else, moving wholly on autopilot towards the quarters he shared with Pyrrha.

A flush of black entered his view, and he paused as he stared into amber eyes. The smaller of the two black cats--

\-- no, wait.  _ Bastet _ ? A waggle of that long and fluffy tail answered him as he blinked, before the cat began to saunter off of his path, pausing when it reached an adjoining corridor to look at him. “Well, childe? Are you coming, or not?”

Deep blue eyes blinked, but- feeling that disobeying her would lead to trouble- Jaune began to follow obediently. Moments turned into a minute or so of following the fluffy Goddess in feline form, until she split off after entering a doorway and he stepped within only to pause.

A wholly different set of gold eyes studied him as he stepped into the temple of Bastet within the palace. The reliefs and displays of countless cats, depictions of homes, and other pictures of her various domains did not stand out as starkly as the sight of Memphis- in her human form- bathing in the nude within the pool adorning the temple’s height.

Of course, he’d seen her naked before, but that had been sudden and confusing. Now, he had time to relish in the sensation- well, besides his annoyance at having been tricked into this by her mother.

“Mother put you up to this.” She noted, and- rightfully fearing what would happen if he didn’t answer- he nodded.

“I ran into her while I was returning from the Pharaoh’s quarters. She told me to follow, and so I did-”

“I did not say any such thing, childe. I only asked if you were coming with me.” Startled by the return of the woman herself, Jaune’s eyes moved from Memphis’ water-slicked skin unto the new presence in the room. Like her daughter, the sign of deep inky black-furred cat ears adorned Bastet’s head, and while Memphis was a preternatural beauty with healthy pink skin, her mother had a soft and even tan that he could see from head to toe--

\-- mostly because she, too, was naked. If there was one thing to be said of the two, it was obvious that they were related. While Bastet’s hair was shorter, and she was decorated with -far- more jewelry than her daughter had been, the most telling difference between the two was that Memphis had a more svelte and trained physique while her mother had . . . well, a mother’s figure.

Swollen breasts and hips that would light a fire in any healthy man’s loins, and he was no different. He knew his face was flushed from how the world around him suddenly felt so cold with the desert night’s chill.  _ This is a Goddess, Jaune, she can probably smite you six ways just at this distance! _

Despite his thoughts, his body did not obey.  _ DAMN IT. _ An amused purr filled the air as his gaze drifted up unto the face beautified only more with the few creases and wrinkles that showed a woman of genuine good merriment.  _ It was noticed. _ He noted to himself. “Well, it always does a woman’s pride good to see a man look at her so. But, you were far kinder to my daughter, are you going to enjoy aged wine before the young milk?”

Jaune did not choke on his own spit. He certainly did not, as his gaze turned back towards Memphis lounging in the bath that formed the center of the Cat Goddess’ temple. A delicate raven brow rose, even though he got from the daughter an expression that was truly different from the indulgent seductress she had looked when she’d come to him in the bath.

It was a smile, gentle and pleased with his attention. Contrary to her overt advances, he felt himself warm and blush at that look on her face. Even his own mind recognized how strange that was- to find her far more beautiful when she was smiling so rather than almost offering herself to him.

A part of his soul flourished in that moment, and he stepped closer to the daughter, while the rumble of the mother’s deeper voice followed him. “That’s right, little star. Nothing is more beautiful, is that not so?” A nervous look came over Memphis’ features as he drew close, standing at the edge of the basin she rested in, while a firm hand guided at the small of his back.

Calloused fingers tickled at the knot holding up his shendyt, and it was shed with a finality that told him that his experience with the Pharaoh earlier was not going to be the last of the night’s intrigue.

  
  


+x+x+x+

  
  


“Does he please you?” Pyrrha raised her gaze, cleaning the older woman’s soles with a stone. The redheaded woman weighed the question thoughtfully as the woman seated above her, Winter minded the emotions that raked across the Amazon’s features.

“He is beautiful.” Pyrrha admitted, easily. Her devotion to her Mistress’ own health continuing unabated. The humors of tired and aching feet wore away with strong hands that had- until recently- only touched other women. “He is also kind, and he listens well.”

“Does- He- please you?” The General’s words became more sharp, while the redhead let loose a soft sigh under her breath.

“He is a man, whom I have only known for a month. He is fetching, he is strong- but he is not you.” A hand came down, capturing the redhead’s chin as deep green eyes met icy blue. In a single gaze, years of devotion and tenderness had been built. Once upon a time, she had been a warrior of Scythia, she’d made her way south to Greece in order to prove herself- and instead she’d met a warrior who was her equal. A young, impressionable woman who ran away from her destiny.

In the Grecian tongue, her name meant “Winter”, and so it had been since. Across battlefield after battlefield, Winter had become Pyrrha’s sister in battle. To this day, she could remember the day that had become something more. Winter had to return to her homeland of Egypt--

The Pharaoh, Winter’s father, had died due to the bite of a viper. Many had thought it an assassination, but even after days of nonstop searching, the only plausible explanation had come around to an insult heaped upon great Serqet to have suffered such an unreasonable fate.

Of the children left, only she and her younger sister were fit to rule- and Winter had no desire for such a thing. Instead, she’d agreed to regency while her younger sister, was readied for her life.

\-- Pyrrha had been ready to cry. Years of fighting by the woman’s side had built rapport, had built . . . affection. Affection that came to a head the night they stepped onto a boat heading south across the Aegean to the palace in Memphis.

It had been the first time either had ever laid with another person. And Pyrrha had been Winter’s lover since- and she’d been her unofficial bodyguard for nearly half a decade now.

It was true, if she had met Jaune before, she might have loved him. He was worthy. Strong, trained, kind, and so eager to please--

\-- but it was not to be. Winter’s lips softly lilted upon her own, and the two women crumbled unto the sheets together. There were no other words, only feelings that had long been reinforced.

  
  


+x+x+x+

  
  


Memphis was just as aggressive as he’d felt not even a few days earlier. As soon as he was shed of the comfort of his linens, her hand entrapped him and gently held him in hands calloused with a warrior’s proof. A hum lifted from his throat as she stroked his already turgid member until it began to leak.

Glimmering gold eyes looked up at his face, that soft smile that had made his heart beat loudly melting back away to the sensuous smirk that he now knew to be inherited from her mother. She stood from the bath, working up from the waters until one of her legs curled around his hips--

“Show me your strength.”

\-- and promptly leapt into his arms. Her weight was not insubstantial, but trapped between the two divinities, he could only feel compressed between two sets of soft feminine bodies. The fact that his length sawed against the demigoddess’ thighs, rump, and sex did not aid his shaky knees as he worked to widen his stance and not spill backwards into Bastet herself.

“My little guardian, give a man some warning, won’t you?” The delighted purr of a laugh drifted right into the space near his ear, making a shiver wind it’s way down his back like lightning. Hands firmly grasping the pert- and very developed, goodness him- rump of Memphis as soft lips embraced his own and he luxuriated in the feeling of being trapped in a place no sane man would want to escape from.

The mother’s hand wound its way between his legs, him cursing his need to spread his thighs to keep stable as nails trailed across the flesh of his sac and made his heart pound. The delighted giggle that came from Memphis told him that she got a firm feel for how that made his manhood react, as well.

It was strange. Kissing with Pyrrha had been intense- but not . . . like this. Memphis was not so forceful, so intent. Instead, she was almost shy- which was at odds with how he’d viewed the woman up until now. Then again, her mother was the Goddess of Sex just the same as she was of Motherhood. Perhaps Memphis understood sex just fine, but . . .

Why did it feel like -more-? As if the touches of lips to lips was more important than the way her mother was-

“Ggnnhh--” He groaned as he was steadily introduced to the unnatural tightness of the dark-haired girl, Bastet’s hands firmly on his sac and the base of his length as she guided him in.

“There we go, sweet star. Another virgin to indulge.” Bastet’s whispered words were just as bad as Memphis’ sweet and tender little kisses. Certainly, poets of a more lurid variety had talked of what it was to lay with two women at the same time- but this could not compare to flowery language.

To be guided by the mother while enjoying the daughter? Madness- sweet, cloying madness. Jaune groaned into another kiss with Memphis as Bastet’s fingers twined down his flesh and then her nails moved from his tender sac to sink into the flesh of his ass- squeezing. “What a fine body. Trained for war, taught to pleasure women . . . Just the way you should be, little star.”

“Fuck me.” Memphis’ voice cut into her mother’s teasing, and he could only obey the whim of his body and this beautiful creature that saw fit to lay with him. His hands held fast unto her ass as he began to pump up into her while she used her arms and legs to hold tight to him in turn. The strain on his muscles and the intensity of the position making him fully aware he wouldn’t be able to do this for hours- no matter how much stamina he’d demonstrated with Pyrrha.

Yet he still cursed when he felt fingers softly ply his sac once again, the Goddess’ other hand turning his chin to indulge in a kiss.

Where Memphis was almost shy and demure despite her aggression and confidence, Bastet took claim of his lips and tongue. Guiding him and controlling every ticklish motion of the tongue, every pleasurable rubbing of lip against lip, every suckle upon his tongue that made his cock throb inside of her daughter.

His first climax came suddenly and without warning, and worst, waylaid him in the hardest possible way. His muscles tensing up and the heat inside of his body growing to a fevered pitch as Memphis let out a yowl as he stuffed her womb to overflowing with sticky white--

\-- and kept going. Thoroughly winded by the time their mess together had made a small puddle on the floor when it couldn’t be contained by the paler woman’s body, he was secretly grateful when her legs hung a bit on his hips and then she shakily leaned against him rather than trying to let him keep her aloft. He was even more thankful when Bastet held them both up with an amused little purr.

“Very worthy. But, even if I bless this union, you certainly won’t think this is enough, little star? Memphis, lay back while I prepare your man. He’ll give you what you deserve right after I get him-”

Her words paused, as Jaune’s breathing steadied and he took notice of Memphis having obeyed her mother’s orders, laying back on a rough linen mat with her reddened and leaking sex on full display. He took notice of a fact that should have alarmed him--

\-- he was still hard. His length was slightly more turgid in appearance, yes, but he hadn’t softened even a small bit. Confusion warred within him only long enough for the lovely face of the Cat Goddess to slip into his vision and trail a rough tongue along his length, breasts fully in his sight and long nails tickling across his hips and making a gasp come free from his throat.

“Mnn-hn-hn~ Thick and salty. Such a wonderful memory.” His eyes screwed tightly shut as his sensitive length was taken down to the root between caramel-colored lips. Just the sensation of her suckling and the sound of it was just as overwhelming as the sight had been. “You’ll do just fine, little star. Now- let’s see if you can’t get my daughter her pleasure and another seeding, then I’ll enjoy you myself . . .”

He would like to say he rose to the challenge with gusto, but the truth was that Bastet’s teasing and tormenting just seemed to always find the right place upon him. To the point that, when he was preparing for his second climax and Memphis was whimpering pleasantly that she was close, he had to outright shift himself out of the Goddess’ metaphorical claws in order to last long enough. His lips latched to a nipple as his tongue darted across it, and rather than hold her hips steady with both of his hands, one slipped between them to use the pad of his thumb to trace against the bundle of nerves that was Memphis’ pearl of pleasure.

Cheating? Maybe. But Jaune was not going to have a two-to-zero disadvantage like that. He had his pride as a man, damn it! The sweet, alluring look on Memphis’ face as they’d made love had been more than enough reason he wished her to get her pleasure.

He knew weakness once again as she clamped down around him and began to hiss and growl with each pulsating movement of her abdominal muscles, the orgasm washing over her body and dragging him along with it as he made a further mess of her womb and the glistening pink that had once been a virgin sex.

His head, wreathed in sweat, rested against her breast as his stamina wavered between living and dying. Experienced hands wound across his shoulders and down his spine, a delighted little breathy tone tickling through the air behind him. “Excellent. A perfect night for siring a childe, mhn~?”

Despite his breathlessness already leaving him flushed, his cheeks burned further. And as he slowly gained strength back to boost himself up on his arms, he saw that Memphis wasn’t in much better straits. The lovely black-haired woman’s cat ears were wound back into her mane of hair, and she was nearly hiding her face in her hands. “Mother, please.” She almost whispered, and he could only find it adorable- a sentiment likely shared by the Goddess as he heard her laugh like the rumble of a large- well- cat’s purr.

“Very well, very well.” He found himself being rolled unto his back beside the embarrassed demigoddess, the position not helping his lungs to catch up with the breath that’d been metaphorically beaten out of them. He barely had time to gaze up at the pleased grin on the Goddess’ face as she shifted forward and laid a trail of fanged nips across his chest and neck which made him squirm beneath her. “Now, sweet little star, I’ll have you before you are ready and worthy, I think . . . I’d like to enjoy this power over you for a while yet.”

He didn’t know what she was talking about, but he had no time to think about it. With one movement, his utterly messy length was repositioned and dragged into a much less tight- but far more warm- vice. And while Memphis had the benefit of virginal tightness, it meant little when a firm squeeze undulated it’s way from his root to his tip and made him balk and grunt.

“Oh yes, little star . . . Let me enjoy this. At least until it’s our turn again, hm~?”

Pyrrha had been forceful, firm in her instructions. With Bastet, it was a struggle to keep up. She wrung him dry over and over without mercy, only to encourage him right back until he was acceding to her demands just as fast as she would make them. Soon, Memphis had rested and rejoined, and he suffered defeat after defeat under an assault he couldn’t as a mortal man weather.

As a soldier, he was ashamed. As a man? Well . . .

  
  


+x+x+x+

  
  


Nephthys sat back quietly upon her heels, watching the tremendous bronzed mirror as her gaze wandered over the entangled lovers. Brushing a tangle of black and red hair out of her face, she reached out with a hand wreathed in rings and painted to be composed of the shadows itself.  _ Fire of my life. _ She mused, gently, as her fingers stroked along the features of the man within the scrying spell,  _ They can take you away from me, but I will always know you. Again, you will light the night with me, won’t you? _

Giggling softly to herself, she stood and turned to return to her beloved throne-

Only to walk face-first into the “golden hills” of her “beloved sister’s” body.  _ Would you GO HOME ALREADY? _

“What’d I say about the stalking thing, sis? You haven’t been this bad since . . .” Ruby pulled her face free of Isis’ maternal breast just in time to see her face melt from a teasing grin into an expression of displeasure.

“Do not speak His name.” Nephthys warned, for once affecting her Divinity. There had been only one time the two sisters had ever been seemingly at war with one another- and it took only a mention to have Nephthys break into an uncharacteristic display of volatility.

Even Ra, their lovely sunny blonde father, was not allowed to speak His name. She would not forgive anyone for it. Her sister, her brother-in-law, or all those who helped conspire against him.

Bastet would be safe. Why- as they shared a dominion- perhaps she would carry one of her fire’s children? No, no, that’s right- she had already said that such a thing belonged as a pleasure to her child, Memphis- the Guardian of the Palace of Egypt.

Isis’ hands came up, bangles and jewelry noisily clanking together and making Nephthys wince. “Alright, alright. I don’t want to have a fight with you tonight, sis.”

Narrowing silver eyes at the blonde, she mused, “Then what is it you -do- want, sister mine?” Ah, perhaps she was a little testy.

“I’m bored. Come to the mortal world with me! Ooh- maybe you can go have a good time with that blonde boy you like so?”

_ That is the plan, but not yet. Soon, though . . . _ “You know I cannot. Little Anubis is not yet ready- and your . . . former boyfriend . . . is stuck in that girl Hedjret.”

Ah, payback was sweet. Seeing Isis’ features tighten and her lovely lilac eyes turn red, Nephthys had to fight to keep from putting on an utterly candy-sweet smile. “I’ll be fine if I never have to see him again.” The blonde uttered, and Nephthys could- at the very least- agree with that.

Osiris was a sore subject between most everyone after the reformation. The only one more worthy of her ire was Horus, the demigod-turned-True God birthed of her sister’s overly emotional moment.

Hero of Egypt, he may be. But to Nephthys, he was an utter villain who had taken away the one who made her happy. Even if she’d had to share him with others, she had always been the one to cradle his flames the closest. Astarte, that tramp, did not keep him comfortable at night despite hiding away from her Father to be with Him- and Anat, her own half-sister, had worn the damned ostrich feathers of Osiris’ sigils! Only she had violently raged against the unkindnesses heaped upon her lovely flame and storm.

“You just want to keep watching the mortal go at it with Bast’s daughter.” Isis accused, and Nephthys simply shrugged with a beatific smile. “Not that I blame you. Look at her, she’s fabulous.”

“You have your hobbies, sister, and I have mine~!”

She would never dare admit that she had been the one to encourage her adoring consort to spread himself so. Nephthys loved Him, but . . .

Everyone had to have their own special parts. Nephthys just happened to like perving on others.

  
  


+x+x+xx+x+

  
  


It was well passed the sweeping of the night when Jaune finally got himself “free from the claws” of Bastet and Memphis. Sore, aching, and tired he’d made his way back to the quarters he shared with Pyrrha.

The redhead whom was not there to greet him. Frowning, he shook his head and stripped to cleanse himself once again and soon went to lay upon his bed.

That night, he dreamed again of a silver-eyed young woman. But alongside her, a dark-skinned woman rife with the markings of another breed across her skin. Where the pallid girl was kind and gentle, the dark-skinned one was powerful and fiery.

Puzzling himself, these dreams made him awake with a smile. Pyrrha had not returned when he awoke, but he dressed and made his way quietly to attend the linens and weavers of the Palace once again.

Jaune thought it would be a good day, indeed. He bowed as the procession of the General and the Pharaoh passed through a hall, missing Pyrrha trailing along after the delegation giving him a sad, sour little look as he continued forward to do his tasks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To help out the people confused, because I already got one review and I'm sure there's more of you.
> 
> Jaune = Reincarnation of Set  
Ruby = Nephthys  
Yang = Isis  
Blake = Memphis, daughter of Bastet  
Weiss = Pharaoh Hedjret, reincarnation of Osiris  
Winter = General of Egypt (Still named Winter)  
Kali = Bastet  
Pyrrha = Amazon (still named Pyrrha)  
Sienna = Sekhmet  
Taiyang = Ra  
Summer = Nut  
Raven = Neith


	5. Shedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some mild Ruby and Sienna sexings, but we'll get a WHOLE lot more of that next chapter.

**Dripping Gold**

  
  


**Chapter Four**

**Shedding**

  
  


Days passed, and while Pyrrha returned to their quarters after he’d seen her in the halls, she had seemed more detached than usual. Their lessons floundered in the face of her admitting to being tired, and he decided not to press. Pyrrha’s kindness had shielded him from a great deal, and he couldn’t blame her for needing a break.

Jaune’s days were quieter, with Memphis shadowing him some days and others him being left wholly alone. His status as the keeper of the Garden continued, strangely, with the Pharaoh herself sometimes being there to watch him go through the day’s efforts.

Those days were inevitably the most uncomfortable. It felt like her eyes bore into him harder than the hot sun did. He always waited for her to say something to him, but she never did. Silently judging, staring, until he would have to deliver the day’s bounties wherever they needed to go.

His nights were . . . more interesting. Again and again, his head was rife with the appearance of those glimmering silver eyes, though then they would mute and the world would shift and warp around until he felt like something more lucid would begin to happen.

That night’s dream was no different.

  
  


x+x+x+x

  
  


Soft fingers and long nails tickled across his jawline and up into his hair, a deeper purr trilling across his ears. “Storm of my heart.” His eyes opened, vision blurring into beautiful colors and shades.

“Fire of my life.” Another voice, more soft and demure, added in as a waxy feeling ran across his shoulders and throat. His eyes drifted from sight to sight, taking in the sight of luxurious black being pressed against his skin and then being fed into the tan that dominated his skin tone. Small, dextrous fingers and painted nails lining up each scale with his flesh as he was wreathed in-

-the skin of a snake. The severe color showing that it was no simple shedding, but likely the remnants of a slain creature. Blue eyes trailed their way up from painted fingers and hands, across golden bangles and jewelry, and then unto the nude form of the silver-eyed woman herself. She was by no means a match for Memphis’- or Pyrrha’s- beauty, but she was cute and his heart soared to see her. One of his arms came up reflexively, hand scraping softly over a rounded cheek which was meant with closing eyes and what would have otherwise been described as a gentle little purr. His lips wanted to move, but instead stayed silent.

  
  


His attention was grabbed elsewise, as a stark chocolate-toned hand gently grasped his chin and brought his attention upwards to the woman whose lap his head laid in. He got a brief glance of molten gold eyes that closed as his lips were claimed roughly. His body sang softly the sound of it’s delight, his soul feeling elation at being attended to by the two women whose names he did not know- but part of him longed for.

The rough, cat-like tongue parted his lips and he indulged in it gladly. The feel of his “dream self” being devoured and toyed with so as the silver-eyed woman continued her work of garbing him in the flesh of a serpent. “Sekhmet, can you not be greedy for five seconds?” The pallid woman remarked, bracelets jingling softly together as she knitted the skin unto his own. Their kiss broke, a strand of saliva trailing in the wake while his paralyzed body could only feel the cool softness of the woman’s cheek, and his other hand was stolen from his side in order to be brought up against a full breast with a firm nipple.

“It is my duty to be so.” She spoke as if snarling, though the woman doing her work seems nonplussed when his gaze settled upon her. “Down here where my father sees us not, where I can be Anat. Let me have what we share, sister.”

A giggle-like snort came from the silver-eyed woman’s throat as she paused in her work, admiring her handiwork as, already, the glossy black faded away as if it did not exist while his body seemed to fill with a new and profound feeling of . . .  _ wholeness _ ? Was there a word to describe it? Something  _ right. _ “I guess that’s fair.” The girl with her red-tipped hair noted, smoothing her henna-painted fingers across the flesh of his chest and causing his own nipples to harden between light little pinches that made his breath quicken.

As paralyzed as he was, it was obvious that his body had no issue -moving- just that he did not have the willpower to -make it move-. Against the soft cup of her thighs, he felt himself grow hard and a breathy little sigh of pleasure came from his beloved one’s breast as he knew she felt it.

“See, you can hardly resist, either. How long has it been? We are immortal, but that hardly accounts for the sand in the hourglass.” The chocolate-skinned woman--  _ Anat _ to him, but  _ Sekhmet _ to others-- roughly husked while her full breasts sat in his sight and distracted him from the wonderful friction of pale thighs bobbing his length.

“Oh, we do not need to wait. He is ready now.” A giggle followed those words as well, even while his gaze was once again awash in a sea of dark flesh that appealed to him roughly. A fudge-colored nipple tickling across his lip before being forced between them to suckle. Reflexively, he did, earning a hum of soft and easy pleasure. “Impatient, as always~” The blood-tipped woman remarked, but nonetheless he felt a soft rising of her flesh from atop his before he was entrapped.

Slick, warm heat enveloping him and leaving him gasping against the breast of  _ Anat _ . The fact that he was awash in flesh and could not see the woman taking his manhood only emphasized the eroticism of the act. The rolling bouncing of her hips against his own felt only as tactile sensation. Before he could realize it, his arms had moved from their almost frozen position to wrap around the shoulders of the woman at his head as he nursed from her breast, soft trickles of sweet richness ghosting against his tongue before being swallowed down. The purring of her throat vibrating outwards through her breast. “Yes, storm of my heart . . . For now, let us be gentle, until we can be violent once again.” Her voice was full of promises, and he felt himself throb within the pallid woman.   
  


How? How could he be so much more sensitive to these two than the three beauties whom had made him weak? It was impossible. He grunted and groaned as a squeal of delight filled the air, and the first of his seed spilled inside of the vice-like sex that gripped him tightly.

“He is out of practice.”  _ Anat _ noted, sadness and fury in her tone that spoke of frustration, even though he knew in his soul that it was not aimed at him. Her breast came from his mouth and he struggled to get in breaths of stale, deathly air.

“Of course,” His eyes turned towards the woman with red-tipped hair, admiring as she pulled herself from his length and the stolid thing flagged enough to allow the vision of her reddened nether lips leaking thick white seed- HIS seed. “He doesn’t have the strength yet. Even with what little training he had with Bastet and her child, or the foreigner.”

_ Anat _ growled, “Why have you allowed so many?” His vision turned up unto the tiger-stripped woman’s face, seeing the fury on her face that allured him so to her. He knew that she was never so tender as she was with him, since they had been paired together--

\-- what were these memories?

“You know exactly why, sister of mine. Rest assured, only little Memphis will be blessed with a child before you.” His eyes boggled, gaze settling on the pallid woman crawling her way up towards the woman who cradled him so. His vision filled with milk and chocolate as the two women shared a languid, genial kiss that made him feel so warm inside. “Little Anpu needs as many siblings as we can stand.”

_ Anat _ was softened by those words, even though on the outside she looked for all the world like she might strike out within moments. The slithering of the nerves under his skin alighting as he found himself sitting up under his own power. “Good.  **I’ve** waited nearly twenty years for this . . . Isn’t that right, storm of my heart?” His cheeks were tickled with nails and calloused fingers, his blue eyes drawn to vivid gold once again as their foreheads touched together. “Awaken soon . . .”

And, despite the pleasant dream, he did. His bed was ruined and he stank of sweat, gaze settling over the slumbering form of Pyrrha as he slipped from his bed and tried to get his senses together. The dawn’s light filtering into the windows carved into the windows in the walls and ceiling of their dwelling. His feet plodded along to the bath as he cleaned himself with a bucket of cool water and then slipped into the bath.

As the warm water washed over his muscles, he shuddered. Within him, something quaked and quelled, then beat like a second heart. His fingers knitted into fists, and a new breath filled his lungs before he let out a soft, unerring little sob.

Why was he so lonely?

  
  


x+x+x+x

  
  


When Pyrrha awoke, it was with surprise that Jaune had already left the quarters for the day. That fact only compounded the guilt she felt, knowing what she did.  _ She brings you someone to keep you company, to make you feel not so alone, and instead . . . _ The redhead sighed, slipping from her bed and readying herself for the day.  _ Even when she’s kind, it only hurts more. _ She thought as she applied her kohl and then wound the curtain of her bloody red hair up into a braid that hooked into a ring within itself, keeping it’s inordinate length at a more manageable level for the day’s duties.

It had never been Jaune’s fault, and his enthusiasm had only made it worse on her. He was her friend, and she’d done something as . . . vile as take advantage of him- even if only ostensibly in order to protect him from disappointing the Pharaoh and her having him killed off with the excuse.

Winter had been so kind as to bring her another Greek-speaker, someone who she got along with well, but it did not fill the void that their former closeness was left with. Absence made the heart grow fonder, she’d heard.

Her gown was pulled on, and she slid from her quarters into the halls of the Palace. Passing by myriads of feline eyes as her mind wandered. Every step towards the General’s sleeping quarters just another reminder of her guilt, of her greed and desires.

How could she call herself his mentor and friend if all she did was take from him?

Pyrrha had never been fond of men, it was true. Amazonian culture treated them as cattle, and though she’d always been considered of gentle temperament by those standards, she was still a premiere warrior of Scythia.

Jaune had been too late, it was the sad truth. And now, she could barely look him in the face.

As she came into the bead-laced curtain of her Mistress’ quarters, she paused as she heard the words from within.

“You brought him here.” The accusatory tone of the Pharaoh, little Hedjret- who could have been Pyrrha’s sister in turn if they could be more blatant with their relationship.

“We’ve had this discussion before,” Winter’s dismissive timbre in turn, “Pyrrha was lonely, and he has been nothing but a perfect slave since. Why do you dislike him so?”

The redhead paused, hating the fact that she was eavesdropping now. But it would be impolite and dangerous to barge in now, and just the same she needed to report just as soon as Hedjret left or quieted.

A hiss not unlike a cat came from the younger girl, and Pyrrha’s hands leaned against the embellished frame of the door. “There are things you should know already, sister, why do you persist to ignore them?”

“Because, you are being superstitious.” Winter’s voice was calming, “And nearly as paranoid as Father was. Do you not think that unwise, especially after what happened to him?”

A scoff, “I would never dare spit in the face of Serqet to find an asp in my bed. No serpent belongs in the royal chambers, let alone -that- disgusting creature.”

Pyrrha’s heart froze, even while her ears supertuned to Winter’s response, “If you truly dislike him so, shall I remove him from the palace? You spend so much time staring at him, you--”

“Do not. You are my sister, but even my patience has its limits.”

A lull in the conversation finally occurred, and Pyrrha privately said thanks to Nike that she could announce herself. “My Lady.” She announced in Coptic, slipping the beaded curtain open and stepping into the antechamber beyond before making her way around into the General’s personal quarters. Winter was seated, dressed for the day and yet not quite finished with her grooming. Upon her bed nearby sat Hedjret, without her crown or the necklace with the flail ornament that marked her lineage.

“We will talk more later.” Pyrrha stepped aside while bowing her head as the Pharaoh left, waiting until her footsteps faded away before turning her green eyes unto the slumped- tired- shoulders of her lover.

“She complains and complains,” Winter lamented, “And yet I’ve not heard nor seen him do anything wrong. Tell me, Pyrrha, is he truly what she says he is?”

Pyrrha could only lick her lips and murmur, softly, “He is just a young man.”

“Do you think we have . . . tainted her?” Winter worried, and Pyrrha had to fight herself not to giggle. It was not that the Pharaoh preferred the fairer sex, it was simply that the Pharaoh did not seem to enjoy anything about sex or people at all.

She was so standoffish as to appear to be the deity that she was thought to be. The impartial, unrelenting ruler of the Land of the Dead. Save that the souls she looked after were indeed still living.

“I do not think that has anything to do with it, My Lady. Shall I do your hair and make-up?”

“Please.”

  
  


+x+x+x+

  
  


It was a blessed thing to be free of the Garden’s heat, and so he found himself washing linens and hanging them to dry. The cool water on his palms felt like heaven, and his earlier melancholy was battled by the presence of Memphis laid out beneath the lines of clothes and sheets. The feline form not as appealing as her humanoid one, but her presence at all was a comfort he couldn’t deny. The presence of other slaves had kept him from starting a conversation with her, but words were unnecessary when he could simply indulge her stomach and breast in a soft little series of rubs that drew a loud purr from her.

It was their own, private little secret that made him smile. The way her amber eyes followed him, her tail swishing in a lackadaisy manner as he tended to the laundry. He missed the melancholy in her gaze in his own good mood.

It was much harder to miss the sudden sight of guards with their khopesh drawn walking towards him.

Within the shade nearby cast by a cloud, silver eyes burned and narrowed in gleeful pleasure.


	6. Melt the Chains, Die, and Be Born Again

**Dripping Gold**

  
  


**Chapter Five**

**Melt the Chains, Die And Be Born Again**

  
  


It was called Ombos, known as a city of Gold because its mines provided the whole of Egypt with the precious metal. 

_ The first swing was met with a reflexive grasp, an arm raised and caught the dark-skinned wrist of his assailant-- _

The underworld was always known as a place of riches, with the Mycenean Hades, his beloved Nephthys, and so many others- including the one who hated him so- holding dominion over the riches of the Earth. His sire, great Geb himself, having allowed such contrivances.

_ \--the blade was wrenched from hands, eyes going wide as his blood ignited within him and he stole the sword from the man as another came forward-- _

Blue eyes awoke, colors fading into focus and sounds of exorbitant chanting filling his ears as he slowly sat up. A pale arm topped with a painted hand gently pressed against his chest, the wreath of gold jewelry and scale-patterning across his shoulders being disturbed by a set of nails raking across his nipples and then up against his throat. Another set of hands, clawed and purposeful, grasped his cheeks and drew him into a passionate kiss that stole the breath from his lungs.

_ \-- both were dispatched with a quickness he could not attribute to himself normally. A single swing of the masterfully crafted blade separating a jugular and then tearing through the second man’s chest. -- _

_ _ Beloved Nephthys, and Sekhmet, brought back to his side. Jaune’s senses were at an all-time high as his fists found their way into Anat’s hair and the languid nature of their kiss became an eruption of violence and dominion. She wished for a world filled with war to crave her bloodlust, and he wished for the rapture of her pleasure.

_ \--the next were less brave. The swords came at him at the same time, forcing him back up the steps as he picked up the other’s discarded weapon. Rather than use it in hand, it was flung at the group as they advanced on him. The other slaves had scattered, and Memphis- feet away- had darted off. That was fine, he didn’t want her getting caught up in this. -- _

“Fire of my life.” Nephthys’ lovely voice filled his ear as she stole him greedily from Anat’s lips to kiss him in turn. Those wonderful silver eyes that spoke of the mortuary proof closed as he indulged her. Against his lap, he felt a sudden rise in pressure as one blue eye opened long enough to regard Anat’s fierce gaze as she climbed atop him and fitted him inside of her sex with a roughness that would have bruised him before.

“Storm of my heart . . . give me a childe.” She husked, and he could not deny her. The chanting of gleeful petitioners droned into back noise as she rode him hard, threatening the very sanctity of the altar he’d been laid upon.

_ \--his blood had been boiling in his breast, and the elation of combat was nearly as good as sex. A change came over him steadily as he killed and was wounded in return. The first time he bled, he cursed and yowled at the offender before crushing his throat in fist. -- _

It was a temple- HIS Temple- that was to be christened here. Nephthys’ tender little touches encouraging him in his rutting with  _ Anat _ as he finally pushed her unto her back and felt her legs wrap around him. Shaking, bestial thrusts matched only by her hissing and cursing as her eyes never left his. The pallid woman’s lips ghosting against his shoulders as she encouraged him, whispering softly- yet oh so loud- into his ear, “Yes, my Set. Seed your consort. Give little Anpu a brother to go with young Memphis’ child.”

The words were not erotic, but the effect they had on him was immediate. A howl that crackled like thunder rose from his breast as his hands grasped the chocolate-colored hips of the tiger-eared woman in order to harden his ruination of her body. Her hisses and curses turning into yowls of delight as his member stirred her depths and filled the air with disgusting  **squelches** of every nectar-coated inch of her being stuffed to the brim with him.

_ \-- a spear caught him in the shoulder, the pain fading in the adrenaline of the moment as it knocked his weapon away and he felt a chill settle over the fire in his gut. Around him, chaos was manifest in the bodies of a dozen Palace guards. _

_ _ _ They were unworthy, disappointments. Even at the time, those nasty thoughts had only seemed slightly alien to him. Jaune would have lauded a world without bloodshed, but he’d understood since youth that it was the very nature of his profession to kill. _

_ _ _ Killing to survive was just as noble as could be. Being killed was just the way of the world, so as he was knocked from his knees by a scythed blade, he only lamented that more did not die with him.-- _

Anat’s pleasure filled the room as blood-curdling screams, her nails raking down his back and drawing forth blackened blood as wounds manifested and then were healed over in short order. Nephthys’ fingers working patterns into his flesh from the deep wine red as his angry movements began to intensify as the building in his loins grew beyond control.

The howl of primal delight joined in a chorus by his lovely “lioness” as his sac settled into the fine curve of her buttocks and he emptied. Thick waves of virile white washing through her depths and flooding the temple of her womb, sure to be blessed and reward them with a divine child to spoil and raise.

_ \-- his awareness faded in and out, only the phantom image of the sweet visage of his beloved draping over him as his body was tossed into the flowing river and he was swept south by the grace of his beloved’s dominion over the Rivers of Egypt. Waters ran red steadily faded into inky black as he became He. As he passed the wary, the unsure, the magic of the dead bringing him home to those who revered Him. _

_ _ _ Wounds became only marks of pride, Sekhmet- no, Anat’s- touch cradling him as he was pulled from the river and carried ritualistically into His temple. _

_ _ _ He knew not how long he’d laid there, being tended to as the fruit of immortality finished blooming within him. As Jaune became Set, and Set became Jaune. Nephthys’ kisses, Sekhmet’s touches, and the image of Memphis’ with her belly swollen settled at the side of His altar. _

_ _ _ These things burned him inside, a storm brewing within that he knew was HIS to control. _

_ _ _ The sprouting of jackal ears had been new, but they didn’t get in the way as much as he would have presumed. Anat had assured him he would grow used to the new appendages just the same as the powers that had been restored to him. _

_ _ With Anat freshly seeded, his attention was stolen by Nephthys, her gaze tender and adoring as she drew him away from the reclining and comfortable chocolate-toned body of his lover. A teasing, pleasured gaze on her face as she took his hand and brought it to her heated sex. “I’ve waited so long for this, my flame. My Set.” His fingers curled and dipped into her with her permission, ring and middle fingers taken in to the gold bands that decorated his knuckles. Her sigh of delight fueled his hunger for her, and the weakness that had been built up by his orgasm was abated in short order as the blood-tipped hair of the Goddess of the Night fanned out in return, her legs spreading wide in offering to Him.

Who could deny Her? Fools, worse than even the fool who had tried to kill him once again. Even he fell prey to Her wiles, though only He was the one she would love.

He lit the night, and she cradled his flames. His beloved sister Nephthys- born of the Earth and the Sky. His free hand wound up against her lips and she suckled a finger between them, enticing him further as his knees shuffled atop the linen cloth that covered the altar to keep from tarnishing it’s fine black make.

As he pushed within her, she sighed out His name and he felt bestial lust overwhelm him again. Anat’s claws tickling over the flesh of his ass as he pressed Nephthys down and took her. The stains of their mutual lovemaking only an additional lubricant to his spear burrowing deep against her cervix- where they’d made little Anpu.

His lovely little son. He hoped to see him soon, too. To believe that he could be a father, Jaune would never have thought. But now here he was, knowing Memphis was round with child and waiting only for his attention to return to her and her mother.

He would, soon. Now, however, he wished only to love his wife and sister. Perhaps they would make another child, though she had not said as much. He revelled in such a thought.

Her shoulders were pressed into the fabric covering the altar as the watchers indulged themselves in a divine sight, deities fornicating lustfully with intent- inspiring a festival all it’s own. Nephthys’ lips lingered near his human ear, whispering soft platitudes of love and delirious devotion as his member sheathed within her over and over. His dominance of her taken with glee, while in turn she took his weakness and made him strong.

She was a beguiling devil, so like her sister. Isis was beautiful, and he would have loved nothing more than to taint the buxom blonde the way she’d conspired against Him with that childe of her’s.

The wry smirk that came across his beloved’s face as he had that thought knew she was drifting through his thoughts as he crushed her hips under his own. A promising little mewl, “Would you impregnate her, too, my Set? Flame of my life?”

He would. The way he was desperately struggling not to give in now to Her. He growled, hungry, then let out a yowl as spunk began to flood her depths once again and he felt rather than saw Anat cradle in against his back with a jealous hiss near his jackal ear. “She should die, not enjoy Him.” She insisted, even though Nephthys- half-delirious with sex she hadn’t had in decades- giggled pleasantly as they both came down from the high.

“She is our sister, is it not right that family love one another . . ? Some just need it more roughly than others.”

“You are tainted with your enjoyment.” Anat insisted, cradling his body as he came free from the white-washed hole of his Night. “He only needs Us.”

He shifted to the side as Nephthys sat up unsteadily on her haunches, pulling the tiger-striped woman into an alluring kiss that stoked the fire in his blood again. “Shall we not make a pantheon of children of our own? Let us be the progenitors of a new Egypt.” Her words were like melted candy, syrupy and sweet- taunting the child within. Set’s eyes closed and he shook with the appeal.

He would not rule over Egypt, but he would be the Father God of all. So many concubines and women to appeal softly to him as the world moved beyond the suffocating silence and stuffy Order that Osiris and even great Ra prized.

His fingers knitted into fists, a breath unsteadily coming free from his chest as a pair of silver and gold eyes turned unto him with fires within that promised blood, pain, and victory.

Within Him, Jaune and Set agreed.

He was pulled between the women again, lips that had kissed not so long ago lowered down his flesh and left mark after mark declaring their dominion of his body. Lip marks painting trails down to his sperm and nectar coated length before Nephthys took him between her teeth and Anat’s tongue tickled across his sac. A groan like the peal of lightning coming from within his throat as they serviced and cleaned him with tender motions that made his nails rake through both womens’ short hairstyles.

Yes . . . THEIR Egypt. Not Osiris’, Not Ra’s, and most definitely not that little bastard Horus’.

The fire within him burned as he pulled himself from the two womens’ devotions, pulling Anat over atop Nephthys’ and sheathing himself within one before crushing the cervix of the other. Instinct taking over from practice as his nails raked down the War Goddess’ toned and powerful back. His lips descending upon the nape of her neck where he bit hard enough to draw her inky blood, marking her forever as his once again while she howled in a mixture of agony and bliss.

“Oh!” Nephthys crooned with glee as he thrust within her once again, his eyes meeting hers. Love and desire was shared there, as well as a dark new pulse. “You will have to be much more gentle with little Memphis, my Set… But you may be as rough as you like with beloved Anat.” Her words were a tease, one that pleased him without measure.

Memphis, whom he had been so fond of before the change, who along with her mother had taught him to pleasure and be worthy with women. Fine mothers, both were and would be.

Silver eyes glowed with delight as his seed was shot into her once again, Anat mewling with disappointment until he pulled free and grasped her hips to rut her like a dog might take a bitch while Nephthys lay beneath, satisfied and happy to watch him mate with her sister.

Such rough sex was only second to the frenzy that overtook Anat after battle, when the stench of blood was as if an aphrodisiac to her. Even in all his divinity, he could never satisfy her under his own power when she was so thoroughly wound.

He hoped to know that memory again soon.

  
  


x+x+x+x

  
  


As he finally stepped from the altar room after thoroughly exhausting himself and his paramours, he found his feet carrying him to the chambers within that were afforded to Him. Draped only in gold- of his own lengthened hair and countless bejeweled accessories- he came across Memphis cradling her stomach. Her feline ears perked as he stepped within, and she rose her gaze to Him in turn while he let tenderness fill his heart for her.

Within her was another of his children. Not a full-fledged God like Anat or Nephthys would birth, but a Demigod like herself. A little creature of Order to serve as the base for a world they would bring.

She rose to her feet, his eyes admiring her tattooed body and the uncertain- frightened- look on her face. It was not a look he would stomach on her, so he stepped in close and gently brushed his knuckles across her cheeks. “Memphis, don’t be scared of me,” Jaune murmured softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips which she melted into in turn, “Where is the smile you wore? Show it to me, please.”

It was shaky, but it existed. In return, her smiled gladly. His hands took hers, and he knitted his fingers with them and studied how her beauty shone through all the greater with the sudden bulge of her once athletic and toned stomach.

“This is the new you, how can I not be scared?” She remarked, that sure and teasing voice gone in favor of a quietness that offset him. His jackal ears flicked as his gaze went from the fruit of their love up unto her face framed by black curls.

“Do you think your Mother would have allowed this if I would harm you?” He asked, sure both already knew the answer. He was the God of Chaos, of Disorder, Violence and Flames- and even more still- but he was wed to a Goddess of Mothers. He was not unkind, not to those whom he adored. Osiris, and Horus had made themselves his enemies- even Ra he would bow his head to, and had saved the Sun God from Apep itself- taking Chaos into his very flesh.

Now, that facet of his being had been returned to him so kindly by his beloved. He was whole again- if not yet at his full potential without all the knowledge that had been bestowed upon his former life.

“No.” Her word was soft, but more sure. Again, he brushed her curls back behind her human ears and he leaned in softly to kiss her. “Will this child be welcomed by you?” She asked, and his sympathies rose.

“Yes, Memphis. They will be just as revered and adored as little Anpu, or the child Anat will bear. For both our child, and you, I will build a world all our own. Are you staying here with Us?”

She looked uncertain, but nodded her head after a few moments of contemplation. He continued, “Bastet remains in Memphis- at the Palace?” Another nod answered, while he nodded, “That is fine. Only the child of Osiris need be scared- and even she I will spare, I promise. Just like the snake sheds its skin, and the sun rises.”

Glimmering golden eyes blinked, and then her pretty lips curled into that smile that he so adored. His hands took her’s, and he led her to bed with a gentleness that surprised even Him. “Will you be sisters with my beloved Nephthys and Anat? Astarte returned to once-great-Babylon, so Ombos will need another Queen, don’t you think?”

Her gaze was uncertain again, but as he settled her quietly unto the bed, he promised to lull a Yes out of her.

That was what he desired, after all.


	7. This Is Infinite

**Dripping Gold**

  
  


**Chapter Six**

**This is Infinite**

  
  


Ombas became the capital of Lower Egypt, those who worshipped the flame and the night gathering with those warriors who longed to pay homage. As he walked the hall of the Palace of Gold with Nephthys holding his hand, he could only smile with delight. More than this would draw the ire of their parents, and so he agreed to keep his agitation of Order to their designs on the young Pharaoh Hedjret. That thought made his hand, wreathed in gold and now tattooed with henna designs, squeeze around his wife’s.

“So much warmth radiating from you now.” Nephthys remarked, giggling gleefully as his blue eyes settled fondly on her face in turn. She leaned up, taking his cheeks in her hands before they shared a languid kiss. “Do I make you so happy, flame of my life?”

“No one has ever touched my heart the way you have.” Jaune- or rather Set- noted with a pleasant air.

“But your body?” The red-tipped Goddess teased, and he could only look smarmy.

“You encourage many to indulge in my body, whether it was my old one, or this new life that has been gifted to me.”

“It’s simply the product of a good wife to offer all of her hospitality.” She noted, looking far more grand than he felt she had a right to.

“Not that it offers you pleasure.” He teased in turn, and she huffed adorably.

“It does not, in any form. I certainly do not enjoy the sight of seeing my man leaving women quaking and pregnant.”

“Of course, my eternal night.”

Their banter was cut short as she kissed him again. This time not one of gentle love, but of hunger and need. The dyed black of her diaphanous linens hitting the floor with a few simple gestures before she climbed against him and slid him inside of herself with practiced ease. He grunted into her lips, and she broke away to rest her mouth just next to his ear.

“Tell me that you do not enjoy it. That you don’t dream of seeding all of my sisters- all of your sisters. Lie to me, my love. That you do not dream of paying back Isis’ betrayal with your manhood-” Another grunt came from him as his hands grasped her hips and held tight as he began to pound himself up into her waiting depths, dragging a moan from her throat, “- That you won’t do the same to the Child of Osiris. Tell me you won’t do it. Lie to me.”

How could she ask him to do that? How could he even try to lie to Her?

He squished her against the cool stone of the wall, hissing and nipping at her throat as he used the new support to put more force into each time he bottomed out inside of her, gleeful little gasps sounding out with every time they connected at the deepest level.

She drew his weakness from him in short order, the squeezing of her loins around his own reminding him of the fact that they were still two souls thoroughly entwined. Even a new body could not get in the way of how deeply they knew one another. As his seed gushed into her, he groaned, “Be mine forever- have my children again and again, Nephthys . . !”

The wail of “Yes!” announced their pleasure to the whole of the Palace of Gold.

+x+x+x+x+

Anat had returned to her place as Sekhmet amidst Ra’s court, pleased with their success. Jaune- or Set- had felt that was fine, knowing she would come calling when her loneliness grew too great. Besides, Nephthys stole most of his attention when he wasn’t indulging in Memphis or attending to the prayers and offerings to Him.

They had a trip to Upper Egypt to plan as well, after all. He still owed the Amazon his gratitude, and he had to make good on his vengeance to Isis for her part in his cursing and- well- pretty much everything else.

Oh, he would take his pound of flesh from her.  _ At least seven, _ he thought.

“You have that adorable look on your face again, flame of my life.” Nephthys noted, scraping long nails through the black curls of Memphis’ hair while the pregnant girl’s cat-ears flicked this way and that under the Goddess’ attentions. A lidded amber eye slipped open long enough to regard him before slipping closed again when painted fingers softly scritched one of the flicking appendages.

Frankly, he could only puzzle himself at how peaceful this life was. Part of him hated that, but- well- he’d do anything to make the women in his life happy.

Even put up with a little bit too much peace and quiet. He’d have to content himself with the knowledge that he was about to add a much deserved amount of  _ Chaos _ to Upper Egypt itself- and maybe the Pantheon as well.

It’d depend on how Isis responded to it all, really. She always was a bit of a hot-head.

He’d phrase it carefully to Ra so that it’d seem like a small punishment for all of her misdeeds. After all, he wasn’t going to try and -kill- her or anything.

Ra was a cool dad, right?

Yeah, totally a cool dad. Besides, Isis had poisoned him and stole the knowledge of his name. Vindictiveness ran deep in Egypt’s Gods.

Slipping over, he let himself rest against the bed where the two women were not-quite cuddling, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Memphis’ lips before breaking away to steal Nephthys’ lips again. The short duel of tongues ignited and blew like a flash fire, before his fingernails tickled across her hips and ribs. “You are so hungry today.” Jaune teased, “This peace does you no good either. Soon, we’ll have our fill, won’t we? I can’t wait.”

Nephthys’ lovely silver eyes regarded him in return, and Set could only smirk while his hand joined hers in adoring the demigoddess that was round with his child. “Take your vengeance, sweetly like a knife, my love. We’ll restore the Balance by returning what was thrown away-” Her fingertips pressed into the scale-patterning on his shoulders and breast.

“-Little Memphis here will birth a great Hero of Egypt-” Memphis, for her part, squirmed against the Goddess of Night’s lap, “- Anat will birth the knife Maahes. Isis will birth the jars. And the Child of Osiris? Why, there must always be another generation to rule in Upper Egypt, don’t you think?” He smiled in return to her teasing plotting, his other hand coming up to rake his knuckles against her cheek.

“Shall we let Memphis rule this place, then?” His blue gaze turned down onto the black-haired woman as she stiffened, golden eyes regarding him in shock. “Oh, does that thought scare you, my love? Did I not already ask you to become a Queen? Why not trade your protection of Memphis for the protection of the City of Gold?”

“I- it’s-” Memphis blurted, before squinting at him. True to form, he laughed- and Nephthys joined him shortly after. “You’re teasing me!”

“Just a little bit.” Set admitted. The duality of his soul was still vexing to him, referring to himself as the mortal Jaune- but then feeling like the God Set. He was both, and neither, all at the same time. His fingers in the demigoddess’ hair shifted to an ear and began to scritch it gently, leading to a lingering purr in the pregnant woman’s throat. “Order will not exist here when my vengeance is complete. Let Order reign in Upper Egypt, and let Lower Egypt be ruled by the people’s whims. All that matters is that all of you are happy.”

Nephthys’ grin said how she longed for that time, just as he did. This pretending to Order was insufferable, but soon . . .

Soon he’d grasp hold of Isis and Hedjret, and taint them both. Then, perhaps, he’d go hunting for Horus- if Horus did not come for him first.

Frankly, he hoped the lovely man did so sooner rather than later. Things were going to be -so boring- without someone to spice it up. His competitions and the messes that resulted always brought such delight to Set’s soul.

+x+x+x+

  
  


He found himself once again pinned under Nephthys that night, the Goddess of Night leering down at him with a flushed appearance. Despite himself, he could only feel amusement at how absolutely famished she seemed to be. “Do not laugh,” She teased, alerting him to the fact she was lingering in his thoughts once again, “I had to watch you learn once again with that Amazon, then pleasure the Child of Osiris, then Bastet and her child. You owe me so much, husband.”

When she put it like that, he supposed he did. It was only his pleasure to make good on those debts, as well. His hands came up, grasping her full breast from years of nursing little Anpu, and began to softly squeeze and mold the pale tits against his palms while his forefingers tickled against her nipples, earning a soft gasp of pleasure.

“Flame of my life…” She uttered freely, and his body responded eagerly. His hips shifted under her, and he felt his naked sex brush against her thighs and her mound. The next roll of his palms against her breasts had them turning so his thumbs brushed the hardened buds of her nipples, and the shock that went through her small body brought forth such a shudder that he felt her quivering against his length.

His beloved sister, his beloved wife. Within which, the fruit of eternal life had seeded and birthed the Guardian of the Dead, little Anpu- known now as Anubis since he was grown. Another jackal-eared God to add to the flushed Pantheon.

She lifted her hips, and he watched as her hand grasped him and guided him unerringly to rest within her as she sank back down with an urgency he could only attribute to Nephthys herself.

Anat was rough, but she longed to have him take dominion over her. He was always tender with Memphis. His memories of Astarte were filled with decadence and depravity, the Babylonian Goddess wanting him to luxuriate attention upon her and lay with her in only the most extravagant of fashions. Bastet made love like an expert, teaching wholly new movements and techniques with every passing moment.

Only Nephthys willfully made love with him. Never would he deign to call it “fucking” or “Mating”, only ever did they make love, no matter how rough or soft. The feeling of her wrapped around him like a hot wet vice was the heavens itself, and so he let her dictate the pace of their hips while his hands drew free beads of milk from her teats, leading to him sitting up slowly to engulf one of her nipples into his lips to drink down the sweet concoction that had once fed their firstborn.

And hopefully would feed a second- maybe even a third.

Such thoughts always enticed him, and so he felt himself grow more rigid than he already had been, leading to a squeal of delight from the dark-haired woman as his hands moved away to grasp her hips and pull her down into his lap with every time she rose up and fell, her breast stuck in place between his lips as he nursed from it. The lovely sweet taste accompanied by the warmth of a Mother’s love.

It made him remember his own beloved mother, Nut. Those same silver eyes and the dark curtain of hair- along with that gentle skin. The same mother they shared, alongside with Isis and Osiris.

Though Isis herself had been reared more by the Goddess Neith, they still flowed with the same divine blood. The taint of being the Goddess of Magic had changed her wholly, as had her own vexations.

Why was he thinking about this now? Your wife, Set!

To apologize for his wandering mind, he pulled her back with him flat against the bed, releasing her breast and instead squishing the round gloves of her ass between his fingers as his feet planted and he began to buck himself up into her, the disturbing  **squelches** of his length spearing into her sex announcing each time he bottomed out inside of her alongside the  **fwap** of her thighs and groin meeting his own. The pleasant heat building up inside of him alerting him that he was nearly ready to erupt again.

They’d had so much sex today- his wife was insatiable! Since he’d awoken, he’d laid with women more than he’d done anything else. Thoroughly distracting, pleasurably so.

“Seed me.” She husked, words breathless and euphoric. “Let’s have another child. Anpu needs brothers and sisters, my husband, my Set-”

How ever could he deny Her? Her words were like Commands, and so he unleashed. Sweet agony racing through his body as he quaked and felt each wave of his virility spray up into her waiting cervix and womb, aiming to impregnate the Goddess of the Night with yet another little flame, little storm, little  _ Chaos _ .

Oh, how he loved to feel her quake and shudder against him. Those silver eyes gazing at him in return while he took in her every response. He felt weak and tired, having been so active all day- but it was a kind of innate training that he could only luxuriate in.

After all, Astarte and Bastet had both had a hand in helping make him an unrivaled lover of men and women equally- even if not all of that knowledge was present in this new body, it could be reacquired and enjoyed once again.

Jaune- or Set- could only smile.

Next, was Isis. Then? Then he would take Hedjret for his own.

After that? Why . . . that was  _ Chaos _ itself- no one, even him, ought to know.


	8. Ignite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaun-et and Yang-sis sex, after she gets her ass whooped a bit.

**Dripping Gold**

**Chapter Seven**

**Ignite**

It was only ever a matter of when his beloved sister’s temper would get the better of her that she would appear. Of course she would wait until their sister of the Night was away, and probably only deign to appear when she had the advantage-

Isis was, contrary to her bombastic personality, a bit of a coward when it came to Him. After all, he was the antithesis to the Order of her Magic. Chaos, Flames, and Storms obeyed his whims, so her offensive means were wholly reliant on her own strength.

It was as he was wandering the halls of the Palace of Gold that his jackal-ears perked, Jaune- no, Set, no, Jaune- twirling with a cross-arm block as his blonde sister’s fist crashed into his elbows and she let out a howl of indignance. “Set, you snake shedding! Did you think I’d forgotten?!”

_ You couldn’t forget a slight, except your own. _ Engaging her verbally in return would only build her ire and make her stronger, so instead he brought his arms up and held his elbows outwards in a readiness to guard while a fire began to burn in his belly. The fury on his sister’s face was a beauty, something that allured him like no other. Another fist came hurtling his way and he met it with the point of his elbow, causing Isis to screech out in pain as her knuckles burned in agony- though he respected the fact she’d kept a proper fist rather than having her fingers mangled. Her father’s teachings shined through in his lovely sister.

He stepped in, feeling in the background of his soul that Nephthys had already felt the sudden arrival of another divine life force and was no doubt simply watching from the shadows, and the cocked portion of his right arm was shunted out with a palm against the Goddess of Magic’s sternum, sending her struggling backwards to keep upright under her own weight- her breasts popping free of the thin sheath of pure snow white with only blonde tresses to pretend to hide away the caramel-colored nipples that had nursed the enemy of his soul.

For not even a grain of sand in a glass, he wondered if Horus was out there having as good a time as he was. He brought his elbows inwards again, and Jaune- no, Set- shifted and rolled his hips into Isis’ howling right swing, ducking in against her breast as his palms reversed. “Shi-” Was the pronouncement from his lovely sister’s lips as his hands grasped the elegant and powerful muscles of her arms and  **coiled.**

She was a brawler at their finest, but the truth was that she still was no warrior. She’d relied on trickery and magic to do her fighting for her, and it showed when she lacked the experience to make good on her great strength. Kill her momentum with the hardness of the elbows, breaking fingers in some cases, and engage within her swinging range where he held the advantage with his elbows and knees.

Isis’ body flung over his hip and rolled across his shoulder, her back colliding with the stone of the floor with a loud and painful  **blakkt-!** “Ggauh--!” Rather than make good on her weakness, he relaxed his position above her, putting his weight on his back foot on the off-chance that his sister would try and pull him to the floor with her. He was sure she wasn’t above such dirty and underhanded tricks- he was so proud of her!

“Hello, Isis. You’re looking quite lovely today. To what do I owe the visit of my most exalted sister?” His lips curled into a jackal’s smile, carnivorous and  **hungry.** Isis’ lilac eyes opened and burned red, the glowing over her body alerting him to her favorite brand of self-enhancement magic. “Oh- uph uph- what will Father Ra say if you trash-” He darted back as she whirled up unto her feet and took another wild swing at him.  _ Well, I tried. _ He snickered mentally. How pleasant it was to spend family time together like this.

Using magic to enhance her strength and tensile reactions would cause him issues, but if she’d raised the level, it was only fair that he do so as well. As he raised his arms again into the closed-in stance of melee with the knees and elbows, he let his soul  **focus** -

-and that was when the familiar wreath of lightning consumed Jaune- no, Set’s- body and began to fill him with a new sensation of pleasurable pain. Isis’ glowing form screamed towards him and he saw the way her fist, a blur to anyone else, jabbed forwards towards his face. A palm stretched outwards and he slapped away her punch, grasping unto her wrist and watching as her face contorted in pain and- literal- shock. Lightning bolts racing through their bodies mutually and the unbearable agony within his body was shared.

Steam poured from every one of their pores as Isis fell unto her knees, slumping onto her hip when his hand finally let go of her wrist. A deep breath, filled with oxidized air, began the process of healing the damage he’d done to the wonderful blonde body He now inhabited.  _ We are one- we are Set. We are still Jaune, as well. _ He let the mantra fill his head for a moment while he stood over the twitching form of his sister, watching the way her muscles all contorted violently as a result of the displacing voltage from his sudden “attack”.

Set still played fair, in his opinion. Was it his fault that Isis had no protection from such elements? It was her idea to attack him in a rage, after all.

The stench of ammonia filled the air, and he could only laugh. “Really? Come on, now. That was just a spar, sweet sister! Fine, fine. Come on, let’s get you a bath. How long has it been since you enjoyed a hot bath? Too long, I’m sure. Come now- up up up- one leg then the other . . .” Set, ever the adoring brother, hefted his senseless sister into his arms and carried her along to the royal bathing chambers.

As he passed the halls holding the worn blonde Goddess of Magic, the shadows nearby melded away from one another and his lovely wife walked at his side, once again adorned in funerary blacks. “How rude, flame of my life. You could have given her more of a fight.” Despite her chiding, he looked past Isis’ groggy face to spy the light smile on Nephthys’ own.

“I am infinite in my mercy and pleasures, night of my soul.” Set- no, Jaune- remarked, offering his silver-eyed wife a comforted smile. Turning his gaze back unto Isis’ face, noting how she was starting to gather back senses of her body. “Hello again!” He noted, feeling a deep sense of irony at being reminded of the pleasant redhead from Memphis’ palace. “Relax, sister. We’ll be in the baths in a moment-”

“Whag faee uckkk- reeet?” Ah, still getting her vocal chords under control. That was to be expected, really. Regeneration like they both had to endure took some time, and it was only his own blessed resistance to the Storm that he was sensate rather than thoroughly worthless as a person.

“Isis hasn’t been that struck dumb since that feathered waste was born.” Nephthys mused, pushing open the doors to the royal bath chambers. As both of the Gods stepped within, Set took his time in laying Yang upon her back next to the heated bath and then using his hands to dexterously remove her trappings of jewelry and what little clothes she actually -did- wear, exposing the whole of her thoroughly voluptuous and muscled body to him.

“Settttt, donnnn’t youuu thhhhhiink-” She should have known telling him NOT to do something was explicitly the way to get him to do it. His palms, calloused and scarred, quickly grasped hold of the heaving tits that had always been the jealousy of her sisters and many of the rest of their divine family. Only Nut and Neith themselves possessed more prodigious busts, and that was by virtue of birthing so many out of the pantheon.

Already, beads of luscious milk came from each heavy caramel nipple, and he saw in his peripheral view the pleasure on his wife’s face as she dressed down and then moved to settle into the bath next to where he’d laid their lovely sister together. His head came down, jackal ears flicking this way and that while his teeth tugged at a nipple and earned a shaky, involuntary moan from the weakened blonde.

“Gggnnh- you beast-” She hissed, and he could not deny it. Rape, murder- all of Chaos’ breed was his to enjoy, even if the mortal soul that had melded with his was a softer soul, giving him a much needed sense of clarity. Right then, however, he was going to give his wife a proper showing of him breeding their sister.

“Your beast, for the night, sweet sister.” Set- no, Jaune- noted while he shared a pleased smile with his wife, the blonde woman’s legs splayed wide with his own knees and then one leg brought up to his chest so that he could slip within her while offering lovely Nephthys the sight of his length pistoning into her sister’s grip.

From Nephthys’ elated gasp, he had made the right decision. A set of pale, henna-painted fingers dipping inwards to tease around his entry to their sister’s sex and then to cup his sac as he took his time in ploughing deep into her moistening pussy. “A motherfucker now, are you, flame of my life?” Nephthys teased, and he could only smile in return, “Will you tell the featherbrain about it?”

Oh, he would. He would luxuriate in every detail, in fact. That thought alone made his pace quicken, Isis’ bouncing breasts only adding further fuel to his hungry heat. With one arm bracing her leg against his torso, the other grasped a jiggling tit and brought it to heel as his sister’s voice began to ring out. “Gnn-nnnkh-nnhk- not- gghn- satisfied with your sister and- nngnghk- that cat of your’s, Set? Have to know the pleasure of- haahk- Magic, too?”

He hushed her by sinking his teeth into her lips, a bestial kiss to accompany the animalistic rutting he began to deliver unto her, Nephthys’ silver eyes burning into the joining of their hips while he heard the soft stirring of the bathwater that assured him she was pleasuring herself to the sight.

That thought only spurred him on further. “Silence and bear me a child, sister.” The sight of her puffed up lip, the glistening of her eyes, the way her hands grasped at his abdominal muscles and then at her own body, as if unsure what to even do with herself as he speared her time and time again-

-the heat was too much. As Nephthys’ voice raised in a soft little groan of pleasure, he wrapped both of his arms around Isis’ leg and pressed himself in until the helmet of his member was caught fast to her cervix, and the divinity of his seed was sprayed across the insides of her womb, tainting her in his own thick white until it began to bubble freely from around their joined bodies.

“Damn it, Set-” Isis muttered, her head laying back against the stones of the bath basin. In return, he simply offered a lackadaisy shrug.

“Come now, let’s get you in the bath. It’d be untowards for the Goddess of Magic to smell of piss and jizz.”

+x+x+x+

Of course, the bath was forgotten just after it was joined. Incestuous urges running rampant as the three indulged in one another beyond the scope of morals or such simple things as bodily limits. Though Isis’ hunger, unsated for decades without a husband or a consort, was great, it was by no means a remote match for his lovely wife’s. The public sight of him with another woman always inspired her to greater and greater heights- and this time it was his treacherous sister Isis herself, who Nephthys held a similar annoyance with.

So they had taken the chance to take some well-vaunted vengeance on the blonde, leaving her weak and worn when they inevitably turned their eyes to one another and finished the bath with a much more explosive romp that Nephthys had whispered promises would see them with another child.

Despite his worries to the contrary, he “obeyed” his wife’s request to enjoy the rest of the bath alone with her sister. The fact that Isis had the gall to actually look -uncomfortable- at him told him that, if he was a better God, he might have felt some mercy for her.

Set had no such compunction, so he simply went in search of Memphis in order to enjoy a night of curling close with the woman who was round with his child. The day had been a wonderful one-

And the next would be an even better one. It was time to return to Memphis, both to pay back the lovely Amazon, and to punish Hedjret.


	9. Resentment

**AN:** “You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?” Theophany - Terrible Fate

**Dripping Gold**

**Chapter Eight**

**Resentment**

  
  


Memphis was burning. No, that was too grandiose. Even to say that the Palace’s halls were drowning in blood was simply him being overdramatic.

He walked the halls of the Palace that not so long ago he had cleaned and kept pristine, watching as guards nervously eyed his every step. His jackal-ears flicked each time their weight would shift, and the crackling of the Storm’s energies across his fingers brought a smile to his face much the same as Nephthys’ whispered words of love.

The reckoning had come, and that thought alone brought a breath of fresh air into his lungs unlike any he’d ever enjoyed before. The first step brought his attention back unto the man who dared to ready to swing the blade towards him.

He lauded the man’s bravery, but the arc of lightning that sent him spiralling from his feet was just another result of the life of one who lived for others.

As the world descended into madness and blood around him, Set- and Jaune alongside him- began to laugh.

  
  


+x+x+x+x+

  
  


**KRASH!**

“Brother! Sweet brother in young supple flesh!”

**KRAAASH!**

“Tell me! WHERE HAVE YOU GONE AND HID!?” Set- no, Jaune- looked upon the rubble of the imperial seat, seeing the ruins of the once proud stone seat that had been decorated with gold and lapis. Now it was a symbol of a waylaid dynasty, the only remnant a child who had been infected with the spirit of the bastard, of the King of the Land of the Dead. Hedjret was innocent in this, but did He care?

No. The simple truth was that He didn’t. As the scent of ozone filled the room and arcing lightning poured from his form, filling the Throne Room with his power, the God of Chaos could only let out a maddened and insane laugh.

She had been born of a failure of flesh. A husk to be inhabited by the splinter of a soul. His tenderness and mercy to her was paid with blood, and so- by Divine law- He would gift her more.

A shout filled the room alongside his burgeoning power, and his deep blue eyes turned, watching as the red-haired Amazon stood with a spear and a shield at ready before the joining hall into the Royal Harem. The laugh in his chest bubbled and was quashed as his lips curled.

Ah, she was ever too kind, and always too good for her own needs. How long had she lived in Egypt, and knew she stood no chance?

Was it the same feeling that engulfed her when he’d been murdered?

“Hello again, Pyrrha.” Jaune- no, Set- said with a smile on his lips.

“Jaune . . ? ?” Her quizzical tone was startled, and He could only appreciate the pause that fed in her stance. “What- how- but you-” Her pretty face was as he remembered it, worn and wane but with a beauty that seemed everlasting.

“Reborn, as it was always meant to be.” It was enough, in his opinion, as he graciously allowed her to stand in His presence. “Love is what has always brought Life back to the Dead, Pyrrha.”

“But-” So beautiful, so perfect, so foreign. Set could only laugh within at the fondness the creature he’d been felt for her. Set  **knew** of her hungers and aches, but that was mitigated only by the simple soul that had allowed him to live again.

“Put down your honor, and leave with your lover. That is the graciousness Set will bestow upon you.” It was the ultimatum, and the one chance he’d offer her, in thanks for her kindness. Even such a thing was pushing the bounds of his own Honor, but He could be gracious. For she was mortal, as was her lover- not infected with Osiris’ presence.

She firmed her stance, and he could only feel the unabating sadness flow through his soul as she stood against Him. “I will mourn you.”

She leapt with a trilling cry, and it was only the power of her own Soul which saved her as the flames leapt up and flung her through the curtains back into the royal harem. The chill of the stones beneath his feet steadily warmed with each step that His presence invoked. Storm and flame evoked in a thought as he walked along towards her crumpled form, seeing the emptiness of the royal harem, the guards watching as the foreign woman screamed and rolled upon the carpeted floor. Her beauty captured in the gleaming gold of an inferno.

His gaze turned from her, deeming her cries of agony and horror a suitable announcement of his presence, just as a head of white hair came forth from the bedchambers- though upon reflection it was not the one he sought.

The great General of Egypt looked at him in fright, before seeing the redhead in her weakened state. Already, her blade was in her hand, and Set laughed. Gesturing with a jewel-clad hand, he bade, “Fight me and know her pain, or go and rescue your beloved. It makes no difference to the Storm, O Winter’s chill. Her honor is not your’s. For saving Me from an ill fate, I will offer you that kindness. Leave Osiris’ child to me, with you and your woman alive- or with the both of you corpses.”

The deep black of her brows furrowed, and he watched as she looked between him and the woman who had gone still on the floor, the only signs of her living being his wife’s absence and the soft, pained mewls that came forth from her beautiful form.

“The reckoning has come. Venerate love over family- or do not. My vengeance will be complete, either way.”

He watched as her eyes closed, and tears came forth. Her pain delighted him in the deepest parts of his soul, and the world around him crackled with even more of His power.

He did not laugh as she moved to cradle her wounded lover, simply bow his head in respect to her choice as he stepped through into the bedchambers beyond.

Set revered only one thing beyond his own powers, and that was Love. It took a creature of extreme character to make such a sacrifice, and so she would be allowed.

Hedjret looked up in horror, scrambling back as he drew closer, and his lips split into a smile that wore madness on its sleeve.

“Hello, child of Osiris.”

She screamed, a terribly humorous thing for her to do considering she housed the soul of the Silent King. Gone was the austerity, the power she’d once held over him. Now there was only the way she hid from him like prey. Nothing to protect her, no guards to stand between him and her flesh.

He languished in the moment, stepping after her as she fled time and time again. Each time He drew close to her, she would scream and flee again.

A part of him died an ignoble death as she started to cry, to plead. But she was simply mortal, it was only to be fair. Justice was unkind, and had always been. She knew that best of all, did she not? She flinched from his hand, before his fingers seized her throat and pulled her from the floor where she’d collapsed from their game of cat and mouse.

She choked, and he saw reflected in her eyes the smile He wore. The mystifying feeling of looking Death in the eyes, even as she gurgled at him, hands weakly hitting fists into his biceps as his anubian ears flicked this way and that.

“No one will save you, little one.” He whispered with a voice so profound, the sinuous rasp of his tongue like a serpent’s as her throat was chained in his fingers.

“No one is left to stand between you and the pain you’ve brought.”

  
  


+x+x+x+x+x+

  
  


His eyes looked upon Her as Her gaze turned onto the creature that lay upon the royal bed. Scratches and marks decorated His flesh as Nephthys looked upon what remained of the girl Pharoah, and bowed her head.

Set only smiled. “Night of my life.”

“Flame of my soul.” Nephthys spoke, and moved to settle upon the side of the bed, seeing the lifeless look in the girl’s eyes, she reached over and gently ran her henna-painted fingers across the girl’s lids, closing them and allowing her to rest. “Live still, burdened and marred-” She began to preach, and he turned away from Her to redress.

The blonde rolled his neck, and felt completion as his joints flushed and popped from the movement. “-know not respite from this. Know not the burden of your guilt, of your pain, of your deeds. O Pharoah, blessed child, cursed with the presence of another-”

He began to walk away, and within him was born a schism.

Within him, Jaune became Set- wholly and completely.

And Set felt so wonderful.

“-the fruit of the Gods made whole, completely. Though you may struggle, only the kiss of a snake will free you- as your life's blood turns black. Only when taken by Death will you be hailed as worthy. The fruit of life will grow from your corpse.”

Set began to laugh as he walked the empty halls of the Palace of Memphis. A great and terrible vengeance complete.

And, upon the distance, he felt a deep connection draw him near, and the scent of his great adversary on the winds made his smile turn into a grin.

The world just was not complete without Horus- and he would never have been happy simply being the father to a new pantheon.

Set did not wish to rule, only to draw the world into an unending chaos of flames-

And as he came upon a young woman, sun-kissed of skin and with deep raven hair and gold eyes, the curved blade in his hand felt so light as she glared at him with a fire all her own.

Set’s smile was that of a jackal as the world filled with such a wonderful rush once again.

Blood would be spilled, and his children would inherit Egypt.

And that suited Set just fine, as he drew his blade up and with a maddened, exalted cry, engaged in battle once again.

  
  


**Consumed in flame and storm, let Egypt reign forevermore.**


End file.
